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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181109">Sinking Feeling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozzlynn/pseuds/Rozzlynn'>Rozzlynn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Murder, Attempted Suicide, Betrayal, Blindness, Dehumanization, F/F, Fix-It, Gen, Gun Violence, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, Imprisonment, Knife Violence, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Murder, Near Drowning, Nightmares, Rated For Violence, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Stalking, Sword Violence, Vomiting, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:53:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26181109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozzlynn/pseuds/Rozzlynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter escorts Jon and Basira to Ny-Ålesund in the Tundra, with knock on effects for everyone at the Institute. As the summer draws on, Jon comes to terms with the consequences of his actions, Basira decides where to draw the line, and Martin goes to lengths that he'd never have imagined himself capable of before their lives fell apart. Hope can be hard to sustain, but the same world that whittled away their choices eventually offers each of them a chance at happiness.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alice "Daisy" Tonner &amp; Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain &amp; Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain &amp; Melanie King &amp; Alice "Daisy" Tonner &amp; Jonathan Sims, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood &amp; Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Melanie King &amp; Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Deepest depths</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Rusty Quill Big Bang 2020! This fic features illustrations by the amazing Momo, who can be found at <a href="https://linecrosser.tumblr.com/">https://linecrosser.tumblr.com</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/linecrosser">https://archiveofourown.org/users/linecrosser</a>! </p><p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo">theblindtorpedo</a> for beta reading the first draft! All remaining mistakes are my own.</p><p>For spoilery warnings on what the character death, murder, attempted murder, and attempted suicide tags refer to, you can jump to the end notes. The violence is at the heavy-ish end of canon-typical horror; not enough gory details to be rated Explicit, but hopefully the tags are warning enough for what to expect. </p><p>If you feel like reading it, have fun! This was quite a marathon, and the event was a good push to get it written. It's been a vehicle for a lot of my season 4 feelings. I had thoughts on this AU that didn't fit within the scope of this fic, so there might be a sequel, especially if there's interest, but this one's still meant to be a self contained story. Feedback's welcome! I'm also on tumblr at thezolblade and twitter at allthescribbles, if you feel like saying hi.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Feeling any better?" Jon asked, keeping pace with Basira as they walked along the deck of the Tundra.</p><p>"Mh. Not really." Basira paused to lean against a nearby shipping container as a particularly large wave rocked the deck.</p><p>"Want to head back inside?" </p><p>"No. Fresh air might help. I'll give it a bit longer." </p><p>Basira took a deep breath and continued along the path, flanked by a tower of shipping containers on one side and a metal handrail on the other. Beyond the railing, the North Sea stretched to the horizon, choppy and steely gray. A fine mist blurred the boundary between sea and sky.</p><p>The Tundra hadn't been their first choice of vessel for the journey to Ny-Ålesund, but when Jon had submitted the paperwork for the field trip, Peter Lukas had vetoed the initial plan via email. Apparently there was no need to buy passage with a third party, as the interim director was willing to escort them personally, provided they make a brief stop in Stavanger for some unspecified business that would neither involve nor significantly delay the Archival staff. </p><p>Hopefully this expedition would grant them a chance to gather intelligence on their new boss, or even to get rid of him before he vanished anyone else. They'd agreed not to make any attempts on Peter's life until after they'd found out what he was working on with Martin, and averted whatever apocalyptic ritual the People’s Church of the Divine Host were planning. Any infighting would have to wait until the trip home, at the earliest.</p><p>Half a day into the voyage, they hadn't run into Lukas or any other member of the crew, except for the new hire who'd shown them to their rooms this morning. </p><p>"Once you've had your fill of fresh air, do you want to search out the canteen?" Jon suggested. "We're coming up to lunchtime..."</p><p>"Ugh, no." Basira wrinkled her nose, and paused to rest a hand against another container. </p><p>"I mean, you wouldn't have to eat. But we might find people. To talk to. You wanted to gather information, didn't you?" Jon glanced around, as if the grey seascape was going to offer up any new sights compared to the last time his gaze had wandered beyond the railing.</p><p>"Still. The smell." Basira resumed her unsteady course across the deck. "I think I'll take a nap instead. If you scout out the canteen, see if you can pick up any more of those coffee sachets."</p><p>"Right." Jon sighed and picked up his pace.</p><p>As they approached the end of the narrow passageway marked out by containers, the sound of footsteps echoed from up ahead.</p><p>"Did you hear that?" Jon checked, breaking into a jog without waiting for an answer.</p><p>"Jon? What's the rush?" Basira asked, following at her own pace.</p><p>Once the deck opened up, Jon managed to catch up with a man who seemed to be heading in the same direction.</p><p>"Excuse me? Do you, ah, are you...?" </p><p>"What?" </p><p>Jon hesitated as the sailor turned to stare down at him from a height advantage of about half a foot.</p><p>They both glanced down at Jon's coat pocket as a tape recorder switched itself on, the click and whirr just audible over the churning of the waves. </p><p>"You... you're Sean Harrington, the second mate, aren't you?" Jon asked, in the tone of one piecing together a puzzle. "The third longest serving member of the crew."</p><p>"What of it?" Sean asked, tapping his fingernails against the railing.</p><p>"You were on board when Peter Lukas escorted Gertrude and Michael to Sannikov Land," Jon announced, a desperate energy building in his voice. "You - you were on deck when Gertrude returned. You saw the Great Twisting's collapse."</p><p>Sean stared down at him for a few more seconds, then shook his head in dismissal and started to walk away.</p><p>"Wait!" Jon grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt. "The thousand staring morsels, the sacrifices... Gertrude didn't even try to bring them aboard. The ones closest to the shore... You saw them die as the ritual disintegrated. Tell me how they died." </p><p>"Fuck off." Sean tried to pull free, but Jon clung to his arm.</p><p>"Jon? What are you doing?" Basira called out, finally catching up.</p><p>"Tell me! How did they - ?"</p><p>Jon's questions were brought to an abrupt halt as Sean punched him with his free hand. </p><p>The uppercut sent Jon stumbling back into the railing, which crumpled beneath his weight.</p><p>Jon caught a split second glimpse of Basira's horrified face before he fell. The air rushed past him in a visceral reminder of Mike Crew's hospitality. </p><p>When the water hit him, it took Jon a few seconds to shake off the pain and flail his way back to the surface. </p><p>The side of the ship loomed over him, passing by at an alarming speed. A few pieces of the railing were scattered around him, and he grabbed at one before it could sink or drift away. The layers of paint and rust disintegrated in his hand. </p><p>Fighting to keep his head above water, he tried to splash a bit further from the turbulence near the ship, but slipped under before he could make much progress. Reaching for the undulating patterns of light that marked the surface, he kicked and thrashed and couldn't tell if he was drawing closer. The dip and swell of each wave left an inconstant distance between his lungs and the source of his next breath. </p><p>The world was in danger. Basira wanted his help. He just had to keep afloat for however long it took Peter to send out a lifeboat, and he could deal with all the rest later, one way or another...</p><p>His chest ached until he found himself gasping for air that wasn't there. Choking on salt water, he curled his hands around his burning throat. Deep in the Buried, this sensation had become dreadfully familiar, letting a corner of his mind operate at a slight remove from his own panic. He doubted asphyxiation would play out the same way in the real world. Perhaps Beholding would keep him alive, but at the present moment, that didn't feel terribly likely.</p><p class="darkwrap">
  
</p><p>Memories surfaced in his mind: Elias taunting Melanie with knowledge of her father's death, and threatening her with memories of the entire experience; Elias reducing Martin to tears with his mother's true feelings, and claiming that he could hurt him with Jon's memories, too, given time to prepare. </p><p>Fuck. If these were his last moments, and if there was such a thing as mercy between monsters, then there was something he needed to say. Focusing might be enough to get the message across.</p><p><em>Elias. If the Eye shows you my death, don't share it with Martin. Call it my last request. Please. Don't torture him with this. </em>
</p><p>Drifting in pain, Jon gradually realised that nothing was changing. He opened his eyes to darkness, and twisted round until he could see the haze of sunlight filtering through the water above him. For all that he felt like he was dying, he seemed to have swallowed as much water as his body could hold, and if he was going to pass out, he would've done so by now.</p><p class="darkwrap">
  
</p><p>His limbs were heavy and half-numb with cold as he stretched them out. Even as he made another sluggish attempt at swimming, the light continued to fade. </p><p>His hands found the zip of his coat. Perhaps he'd stand a better chance without so many layers of heavy fabric weighing him down. </p><p>Bubbles of trapped air escaped as he opened his coat. Once his mind processed the sight, he yanked the zip back up. He couldn't afford to lose any more buoyancy. </p><p>He slipped a hand into his pocket to check on the tape recorder. It was still there, at least, though he couldn't tell if it was recording. In theory, he could check for a red light, but if he tried he'd probably drop it, leaving him all the more thoroughly alone. His fingers curled around the casing as he asked a silent question, without expecting an answer.</p><p><em>You got me into this mess. Are you going to get me out of it? </em>
</p><p>Apparently not. The water pressure climbed with each second that passed, an all-around ache that he'd probably feel more keenly if the sea wasn't so numbingly cold. No matter which way he twisted, he could no longer see even a speck of light at this depth. </p><p>The North Sea was about ninety meters deep, on average. Was that his own general knowledge, or the Eye being almost helpful? </p><p>For a brief minute, he struggled against the current again, but it didn't seem to accomplish anything besides tiring him out. Should he save his energy? What was there to save it for?</p><p>Before he could answer his own question, he hit the seabed. His right shoulder settled into the ooze, followed by the rest of his back, restoring to him a sense of up and down. </p><p>His fingers slid through the sediment until they found the bedrock beneath. Well, then. What next?</p><p>Could he walk? England must be some distance to the west, and Europe to the east. No. No, he couldn't walk that far. Not in this state, constantly feeling as if his lungs were about to burst out of his chest. He'd pass out sooner or later, from hunger or exhaustion. Something would eat him before he got anywhere near the shore. </p><p>The Tundra must have stopped nearby. They wouldn't just leave him behind, would they? If he could find the anchor before they gave up and moved on, then he could climb back aboard.</p><p>When he focused, he could sense the general direction of the Tundra, a similar sort of hunch to the other times Beholding had pointed him towards prey. </p><p>He rolled onto his hands and knees, took a moment to brace himself, and started crawling through the sludge. </p><p>With every inch of ground covered, he half expected his hands to meet something sharp or stinging. Whenever the uncertainty of the way forward brought him near panic, he gave himself a break, until his unchanging predicament spurred him on again.</p><p>In the darkness, time and distance were hard to judge. Had it been half an hour yet? Or longer? Just as he was starting to gain confidence that he must be making progress, the seafloor fell away beneath his fingers.</p><p>He threw himself backwards, and rested until his heartbeat returned to a slightly less frantic rhythm. </p><p>When he cautiously felt out the shape of the terrain ahead, it proved to be a sheer drop stretching down further than his arms could reach. He followed the edge for a few meters to the left and right, and it continued unchanged in both directions. </p><p>Was this a shallow ledge, or a deep trench with something dangerous at the bottom? He wouldn't want to slide into a thermal vent, or wake a sleeping monster, in the event that there was anything worse than him around here. In theory, he ought to be able to swim over any such obstacles, but he was in no hurry to test his abilities when they'd thoroughly failed him so far. </p><p>Beholding didn't offer him any information. Could it even know the answer, if nobody else had ever ventured here and found out for themselves? He served a god of fear and nightmares. The Eye was sustained by secrets that terrified their bearers, and the tragic outcomes that they suffered. The geography of uninhabited stretches of seafloor probably wasn't its area of expertise. </p><p>In any case, he had two options: left or right. Whether the Tundra was waiting for him or not, it was somewhere dead ahead. </p><p>After a few moments of indecision, he set off to the right, keeping track of the edge with his left hand. After a few minutes, he pulled his coat sleeves over his palms, then continued on his way, wishing he'd worn his gloves today. His knees were protesting, but so long as he was in the dark, he could tell himself that they wouldn't look as bad as they felt.</p><p>He must have been following the ledge for at least ten minutes when it began to curve back the way he'd come. He froze up, then followed it for another few meters, just to be sure.</p><p>No. Nope. He was definitely going the wrong way.</p><p>He slid down to lay in the sludge, resting his head in his hands. He could feel himself trembling, stifling a scream. He needed to stop making bad decisions, even if that meant taking a break from doing anything at all.</p><p>The People’s Church of the Divine Host would've been pleased with themselves if this had been their doing. Were the supernatural gods of fear ever humbled by the fact that the natural world could match them in inducing terror?</p><p>Jon told himself to get up and move, but couldn't quite bring himself to obey the order. Daisy would tell him that he was wallowing, wouldn't she?</p><p>Maybe he could sleep, and entreat the Ceaseless Watcher's aid in his dreams. Other avatars had come back from the extremities of mortality and geography. Oliver Banks had returned to London after sinking a ship at Point Nemo. Amherst had died again and again, as if it was in fashion, and had come back every time without having to worry about setbacks on the scale of being poisoned by jellyfish or eaten by sharks. Surely his own god would bend reality for a servant, rather than leaving him stranded here.</p><p>If Beholding offered him a way back to land, how much more of his humanity would it take in return? How much longer would Naomi, Lionel, Jess, or any of the others endure the consequences of giving him a statement, if he became yet more monstrous? He'd already started seeing them during waking hours, whenever they hit a low point. Did he really want to take Amherst as a role model? </p><p>That question rather answered itself, didn't it? He might not be the same Jon that he used to be, but the dregs of his humanity weren't yet lost.</p><p>He didn't want to become a nightmare incarnate any more thoroughly than he already was.</p><p>Once again, he told himself to get up and move. This time, he made it onto his hands and knees. Going right hadn't worked out, so he'd try the opposite direction. He spared a moment to steel himself, then started backtracking. </p><p>A light cut through the darkness, drawing his attention. A diving lamp was descending on a chain, a little way off to his left. It settled in the sludge as he approached. </p><p>When he wrapped the chain around his arms and pulled, the lamp started ascending. </p><p>He'd scraped his knees bloody. They'd already healed, but the holes worn through his trousers were stained darker around the edges. Inconsequential, but he'd wondered, and having an answer was mildly satisfying in itself.</p><p>When he reached waters that were murky with filtered sunlight, his throat vibrated with something that might've been a whimper. </p><p>The surface was almost close enough to touch when the chain juddered and slipped. Sinking along with it while it was wrapped around his arms, he tried to flail loose. Before he could break free, the chain went taut, and he started rising again, curled up around the lamp.</p><p>He emerged into open air, and started coughing up water. A steady pair of hands pulled him onto a motorboat and held his head over the side until he'd finished emptying his stomach. Once he'd progressed to gasping for air and hearing his blood pounding in his ears, he realised someone was talking.</p><p>"No need to fret. We found him, didn't we?" </p><p>Jon stared in the direction of the voice, and saw a man matching Peter Lukas' description holding a satellite phone. </p><p>"<em>Apparently so. Keep me updated.</em>"</p><p>Elias' voice was barely audible. Jon lunged for the phone.</p><p>"Hey! No. Bad Archivist."</p><p>Peter shoved him back, and his colleague grabbed Jon by the shoulders. Jon twisted round to get a proper look at him, and recognised Tadeas Dahl, the first mate, from the photos he'd found when he'd first researched the Tundra. </p><p>The phone beeped as Peter hung up. Tadeas maneuvered Jon into a nearby seat.</p><p>Jon tried to say something before he'd quite decided what to say, resulting in a somewhat inarticulate noise escaping his throat. Tadeus draped a foil blanket over his shoulders.</p><p>"I've got to admit, I almost thought I'd lost you for a while there," Peter told him, his tone laced with false cheer. "Not that you'd have been much of a loss, but I do have a deal to uphold."</p><p>Huddled in the blanket, Jon coughed, then tried out his voice again. "E-Elias. Doesn't want you losing staff."</p><p>"Something like that," Peter acknowledged. "Did he ever tell you that you're more trouble than you're worth? Or am I the first to break that bit of news to you?"</p><p>"H-he didn't. But you're not the first." Jon glared at Peter, wondering where he was going with this. </p><p>"I can't say I'm surprised. Well, then. I'll admit, disciplinary issues are not my strong suit, but if Elias never explained to you that certain standards of behaviour go both ways, then I suppose it falls to me to make that clear."</p><p>"...What?" Jon blinked. Was he just exhausted, or was Peter very much failing to make anything clear?</p><p>"How should I put this...?" Peter tapped his foot against the deck, then bared his teeth in something that could only technically be called a smile. "Don't feed on my crew."</p><p>"Oh." Jon almost said <em>'sorry'</em>, but caught himself in time to avoid apologising to Peter Lukas, of all people.</p><p>"Even Gertrude played by that rule," Peter added, a shade of petulance in his tone.</p><p>"I wasn't... I - I won't. I swear." Jon could hardly argue, under the circumstances.</p><p>"If you have any sense, you'll keep to your cabin for the rest of the journey," Peter advised. "If you can't avoid temptation... Well, you've proven that going for a swim isn't a death sentence. I dare say Elias would have no reason to complain if we chained you up and towed you the rest of the way."</p><p>"I'll stay in my room," Jon agreed. Why did this remind him of being scolded by his grandmother?</p><p>"See? Listening to reason once in a while isn't so hard. Why don't you work on turning it into a habit? You'll make my job an awful lot easier."</p><p>Jon nodded, gritting his teeth. Was Peter being intentionally obnoxious, or was he always like this?</p><p>"Good." Peter offered him something closer to a genuine smile. "I can forgive your faux pas this time, so long as you heed your warning. After all, I've slipped up myself. But from now on, let's both hold up our end of the bargain."</p><p>"Slipped up...?" Jon echoed, taking a moment to process this admission. "You... the staff you vanished. Craig and Deborah, over in Research. You didn't mean to?"</p><p>Peter sighed, his expression suggesting that Jon was being tiresome.</p><p>"Bring them back." Jon dug his fingers into the edge of his seat, barely holding back from... From what? Going over to shake him? Kneeling at his feet? His legs didn't feel as if they'd hold his weight. "If - if it was a mistake, bring them back."</p><p>Peter gave him a pitying look. "You know that's not going to happen."</p><p>Jon only realised he'd tried to stand when Tadeus pushed him back into his seat. His mind scrambled for a reply, but here and now... This wasn't a fight he could win, was it?</p><p>Jon deliberately bit his tongue, counted to ten, then offered a deeply unsatisfying change of subject. "I... do appreciate that you rescued me, today. For a minute there, when the chain slipped, I thought something had gone wrong - "</p><p>"No, I just thought it would be funny." Peter grinned, finally looking genuinely cheerful. "And it was."</p><p>Jon stared at Peter, trying to gauge how quickly he could cover the distance between them. Could he tackle him over the edge of the boat? Was Peter still human enough to drown? Wouldn't it be fun to find out? </p><p>Tadeus' hand squeezed his shoulder in warning. </p><p>"Well, now that we've cleared the air, why don't we head back?" Peter suggested, taking a seat on the opposite side of the motorboat. "Tadeus, if you please...?"</p><p>Jon frowned in confusion as the first mate headed for the controls. "Why do you call him Tadeus when his real name is - ?"</p><p>"<em>Don't</em> concern yourself with my crew, Archivist."</p><p>"I was just asking - "</p><p>"You're asking for trouble." Peter offered him a tight-lipped smile. "We're not going to have a problem after all, are we?"</p><p>"...No." Jon twisted round in his seat to look for the Tundra. </p><p>The cargo ship appeared oddly small, at a distance. The motorboat cut through the waves at a decent clip. </p><p>"So, ah." Jon picked a new question to break the silence. "I wasn't sure, from your email... Will you be coming with us, in Ny-Ålesund?"</p><p>"No, as I understand it, that's your mission," Peter answered.</p><p>"I think Basira's taking the lead this time," Jon told him, only to be met with a disinterested silence. "...Still, I thought, uh. If anything goes wrong, you'll bring in the cavalry, won't you?"</p><p>"I guess I'll have to, if you can't handle yourselves." Peter's smile was growing exceptionally strained.</p><p>"Basira thinks Ny-Ålesund is just the staging ground for a ritual at the North Pole, during the winter solstice," Jon explained. "That's why we're going in midsummer, so that the days will be as long as possible. But they've already moved a lot of people and supplies to their base, apparently, and if we're captured, I... I think we could find ourselves in a great deal of difficulty. I don't know if they'd try to kill us, or imprison us there, or transport us to the ritual site, but with the amount of equipment they might have - "</p><p>"Perhaps I ought to stick a tracker on you," Peter interrupted, sounding mildly sarcastic. </p><p>Jon paused to think. Electronic devices didn't tend to work in the entities' altered realities, but if trouble kicked off in the real world... "Honestly, that would be quite a reassurance. For the duration of the mission."</p><p>"In that case, I'll pick up an ankle band for you in Stavanger." Peter looked unreasonably pleased. </p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>"Maybe a choke chain to go along with it..."</p><p>Jon took that as a hint to keep silent for the rest of the trip back to the Tundra.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Basira was waiting on deck, and she took hold of Jon's arm to steady him as Tadeus helped him climb aboard. </p><p>When Jon looked back, Peter had already disappeared. </p><p>Basira tugged him in the direction of their rooms, and hissed a question as soon as Tadeus was out of earshot. "What the hell was that?"</p><p>"Apparently, I'm not as good a swimmer as I thought I was."</p><p>Basira shot him a glare. "You know what I mean."</p><p>"I know. I... do you mind if I shower and get changed before we talk?"</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>She escorted him as far as the door to his cabin, then left without another word. </p><p>Inside, Jon shrugged off the foil blanket, kicked his clothes into a sludgy pile by the wall, and made a beeline for the shower. </p><p>Hot water was painful, so he turned it down to a lukewarm setting. He must still be chilled through, but it was oddly hard to gauge his own temperature. Half-drowning didn't seem to have affected him anywhere near as badly as it would a human. </p><p>He made a half-hearted attempt to rinse out his clothes, and emptied his wallet onto the bed, peeling apart the notes before leaving them to dry. Fortunately he'd left his phone in the cabin earlier, having noticed that they were too far from land for a signal. </p><p>Dry clothes were a luxury that he'd feared he'd never experience again. Had he ever been happier to be proven wrong?</p><p>He'd stolen one of Martin's jumpers a few weeks ago, when he'd found it crumpled in a corner of the break room couch at three in the morning. He fished it out of his luggage and pulled it on over a clean shirt, letting the sleeves cover his hands, and pressed his face into the wool, giving himself a moment to breathe.</p><p>When the darkness behind his eyelids grew overwhelming, he blinked up at the ceiling light, then went to turn on the lamp too. </p><p>He hesitated with his hand on the lamp switch. The cult that he was on his way to confront could wield darkness as a weapon. Shouldn't he try to steel himself to face it without letting today's experience unsettle him? He'd need to be able to keep his wits about him, even with a malevolent entity trying to use his fear against him. </p><p>He switched off the lights, and sat down on the floor. Predictably enough, it was dark. He focused on his breathing, and fiddled with the sleeves of the jumper. He needed to build up some mental resilience, didn't he? Was this helping...?</p><p>If he let himself lie down, he could easily sleep for the rest of the day. Maybe it would even be a good time for it. Most of his victims were probably awake. Still, he couldn't help feeling reluctant to face any who happened to be asleep right now, so soon after he'd almost added to their number.</p><p>This was no time to get hung up on a few bad dreams. He had to help Basira take down an entire cult before it destroyed the world, with nothing to draw on but the power of compulsion. <em>Feed your god, or it will feed on you</em>. Once they'd saved the world, he could go back to trying to stop feeding that way, but not until then. </p><p>Except that he had to stay in his cabin, to avoid provoking Peter. </p><p>And he had to explain himself to Basira, who'd helped him figure out that the nightmares were shared experiences last year. After she'd trapped herself at the Institute in the process of saving his life, she'd immediately disappeared from his dreams, just like Melanie. Back then, they'd agreed that he wouldn't take any more statements in person. </p><p>Would he have been able to stick to that decision, if not for the Unknowing and the cost of waking from his ensuing coma? </p><p>He still couldn't pick out many memories from the chaos of Nikola's failed ritual. Fragments of it came back to him at times, accusations voiced by the dead.</p><p>"Do you know how many people I killed to keep the world in one piece?" Gertrude asked, a nonexistent voice in his ear. "The sacrifices I made. And you didn’t even know what you were fighting."</p><p>Jon opened his mouth, and closed it. Could he really say he knew, even now?</p><p>"Can you imagine how I’d hate having to watch you fumble around as my replacement?" Gertrude's tone dripped with contempt. A memory of what never was. "I really cannot express how much of a disappointment you are."</p><p>Jon bit his lip. If only he could promise to do better, from now on... But that wasn't something he could meaningfully promise until he'd figured out what <em>'better'</em> even meant. </p><p>There was a knock at the door. </p><p>"Jon? Are you decent?"</p><p>Basira. She was here. Right...</p><p>Jon raised a hand to open the door without bothering to get the lights.</p><p>Basira stepped in, leaving the door open to cast some light over the room. "What are you doing?" </p><p>"Practicing."</p><p>"Practicing what?" Basira asked, very carefully.</p><p>"Being in the dark."</p><p>"Okay..." She set down a sandwich and a bottle of water by his side. </p><p>"Thanks." He opened the bottle and took a sip of water. </p><p>"Are you going to tell me what happened?"</p><p>"Yes. I..." He hesitated, squeezing the plastic bottle.</p><p>"I thought we agreed not to pick any fights on the trip north," Basira reminded him.</p><p>"I wasn't - I didn't think - " Jon barely stopped himself from saying <em>'I didn't think he'd put up a fight'</em> . Damn, that sounded awful. It <em> was </em>awful. "I... wasn't thinking."</p><p>"Why'd you go after him? We already know how the Great Twisting went down."</p><p>"I thought it would help. Feed the Eye a fresh statement, power up before the big showdown... You said I needed to be ready for Ny-Ålesund, didn't you? 'Full power', in your words. A statement would've helped."</p><p>"Nevermind that he would've seen you in his dreams as he relived it for the rest of his life?" Basira asked, an edge to her tone.</p><p>Jon stared at the carpet. "You keep saying that we need to be more like Gertrude. Do you think she’d give a damn about a few bad dreams?"</p><p>"No." Basira's voice went quiet in a way that Jon couldn't quite interpret.</p><p>"She got the job done, and didn’t care about the cost."</p><p>"But I thought you did."</p><p>Jon risked a glance up at Basira, and swiftly looked away.</p><p>"I do care," he assured her. "Even so, I - I have to try to choose the lesser of two evils."</p><p>"How about not being evil?" Basira's voice once again picked up a sharp edge.</p><p>"I don't see that working out for any of us until the day we figure out how to quit," Jon admitted. </p><p>Basira let the silence linger for a few moments, then left the room, closing the door behind her.</p><p>Jon sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. He'd packed a few written statements. He ought to read one later. He'd definitely need to sleep, at some point. </p><p>For now, he stared into the darkness, lightheaded with terror, and tried to see why its fervent disciples considered it beautiful.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. No escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What the hell do I do with that?" Martin demanded of thin air, staring at the complaint form on his desk. "I mean, Christ, Jon, that’s - that’s not okay! Oh, that ca- that can’t - I mean, it’s not him, is it? Not - not really. It’s, what, addiction, instinct, maybe m-mind control, something like that? I can’t believe he’d choose to do something like that. No, no, I - I can’t think like that, though, I, I can’t let myself, because if, if he’s already gone, then all of this is just..."</p><p>Martin's gaze slid to the desk drawer containing his research. What was the point of making tapes for Jon if he was already as good as dead, nothing more than a monster wearing a familiar face? </p><p>Could he find out for sure? Would he even be able to tell, face to face? They hadn't noticed Sasha... But this was Jon, he'd never been a good liar... Unless it wasn't Jon anymore... No, he'd be able to tell. If he confronted him.</p><p>Did he have to confront him?</p><p>With a deep sigh, Martin rested his head in his hands.</p><p>"Th-the worst part of it is I don’t even want to talk to him about it. I just - I suppose I’m just getting comfortable with the distance. Cut off. Lonely."</p><p>Martin laughed, a humourless sound, as he watched the tape recorder spool away, free of all human concerns.</p><p>"Mind you, Peter’s not wrong. It really is easier than actually trying to communicate with people." </p><p>If he followed through on his visitor's demand that he talk to Jon and set his head straight, would it work? Would he listen? Even at the best of times, Jon didn't tend to listen. Or at least, he'd hear people out, and then make the most infuriating decisions anyway...</p><p>"I should probably try and get him this tape, let him know what happened, that someone came in to... But then, would that just come across as an accusation? Because I don’t want to - and then, then I guess he’d hear this bit as well, so - I - it - I... What do I do?"</p><p>Someone knocked softly at the door.</p><p>"Go away."</p><p>The knocking continued, getting more insistent. Martin sat up and braced himself for... not just his second conversation today, but his second in several days, come to think of it.</p><p>"Come in!"</p><p>Daisy pushed the door open. "Hey."</p><p>"Hi?" Martin blinked in confusion. </p><p>"Do you mind?" Daisy asked, for no discernable reason.</p><p>"Can... can I help you…?"</p><p>"I - I saw someone come out, so I - I thought that, you know."</p><p>"Do - do you want something?"</p><p>"Just ignore me. Continue with... whatever."</p><p>Martin studied her as she slid further into the room. Her hands were shaking. The longer he looked at her, the more obvious it became that she'd lost an awful lot of weight since last year. "…Are you alright?"</p><p>"Yeah. Just, uh, a bit empty around here, you know?" Daisy replied, rubbing her arms.</p><p>"Not really."</p><p>"Melanie’s out, and Jon and Basira are still off," Daisy explained. "Bit worried, but they can take care of themselves, you know?"</p><p>"Again, not really." Martin couldn't help but laugh. "No one really talks to me anymore."</p><p>"Cause they reckon you’re working for the bad guy?" Daisy guessed. </p><p>"Pretty much. Don’t you?"</p><p>"Oh, I mean, you’re definitely working for something evil, but so are we." Daisy shrugged, her bony shoulders rising almost to her ears. </p><p>"Yeah. Seems there’s plenty to go around, these days." Martin leaned forward, watching as she paced softly by the wall. "It doesn’t bother you?"</p><p>"Didn’t used to," Daisy replied, without quite answering the question. </p><p>"And now?"</p><p>"Bothers me less than trying to go alone. At least now it’s on my terms. Better than being blackmailed into it."</p><p>"Yeah, I guess." Martin took another look at her outfit. Tank top, joggers. For once, she didn't look like she could be carrying a gun. "They told you about Elias, right?"</p><p>"Yeah. Basira said." Daisy spun on her heel and continued pacing. "Don’t like him being alive. Trying not to think about it too much. Don’t want to get too angry, start to... hear the blood."</p><p>"…Sure." Martin didn't bother adding that he didn't like Elias being alive either. He'd pushed to do things this way, to avoid the collateral damage, and Daisy would probably call him on that if he tried to sympathise. Melanie certainly had.</p><p>"Can’t hear his lies from prison, though, so, that’s something," Daisy added, a grin sneaking across her face.</p><p>"I thought you believed him. You were doing all of his dirty work," Martin pointed out.</p><p>"Well, wasn’t willing to call his bluff. Not the same thing as believing. Just too big of a risk."</p><p>"Not for Melanie." Martin held his breath, watching for her reaction.</p><p>"Well, maybe she was the only one with any sense," Daisy suggested, stretching out her arms above her head. "Even if he was telling the truth. If we all died… there are worse things."</p><p>Martin nodded. She'd certainly know. "How was it?"</p><p>"Don’t wanna talk about it." Daisy laced her hands behind her back and stretched again.</p><p>"I listened to your old statement. Wasn’t your partner down there?"</p><p>"Yeah. Didn’t find him."</p><p>"You don’t want to go get him?" Martin asked, feigning harmless curiosity. </p><p>Daisy gave him a wild grin. "I’m not going back."</p><p>Martin traced circles over the desk with his finger. "Hm, I’d have thought you’d have at least tried, or - "</p><p>"I said I don’t want to talk about it."</p><p>"I know. Not nice being interrogated, is it?"</p><p>"I... Oh."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"...I’m sorry, Martin." To her credit, she sounded genuinely apologetic for her conduct last year.</p><p>"It’s alright. Wasn’t you." Martin glanced down at the complaint form. "Not really."</p><p>"No, it was." Who knew Daisy had it in her to sound so sincere? "I hate a lot of what I did back then. Doesn’t mean I’m not responsible for it. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t me."</p><p>Martin hesitated, wondering if this was a good chance to share the complaint, but... no. He didn't know how she'd react. "...Anyway. So what’s this field trip they’re on?"</p><p>"They, uh… they didn’t tell you?" Daisy looked surprised. And more worried than a typical statement investigation would warrant.</p><p>"No, I... What?" Martin gripped the edge of his desk. "Daisy, where have they gone?" </p><p>"You know that town in Norway?"</p><p>"What? I... Wait... What? You don’t mean Ny Ålesund?"</p><p>"Yeah..." Daisy stepped closer to his desk. "They reckon there’s a ritual they need to, you know - "</p><p>"What, but... Peter didn’t even tell me..." Martin flicked through the stack of paperwork waiting for his attention in case he'd been left some kind of information on the trip. "I don’t believe this!"</p><p>"Sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think Peter means to let this ritual get off the ground. Or else he wouldn't have gone with them."</p><p>Martin paused, studying Daisy's face. She seemed pretty confident in that assumption. </p><p>"Peter told me that he was going on a business trip, but not that he... that he'd dragged the others along, or that it was a, a ritual..." Martin groaned, shoving the paperwork to one side. "He... he wouldn't let them get hurt, would he? Not that he gives a damn, I'm sure, but he promised, and I haven't - he still hasn't gotten everything he wants from me, from this research we've been doing, so he wouldn't turn on us now, would he? Not yet."</p><p>"Gotta hope not." Daisy seemed to notice that this wasn't a super reassuring answer. "...Sorry."</p><p>"No, you're fine, I... Thank you, for telling me, I just wish... I wish I knew what any of them were thinking. There's only so much I can do if nobody... ugh." Martin rubbed his face, trying to pull himself together. "I guess it didn't take much to convince Jon to sign up for this - this ultra dangerous mission, did it? Why couldn't he have left it to the people with - with guns, and training, and billions of pounds to throw around on rituals and counter-rituals...?"</p><p>"I don't think Jon can turn a blind eye to these things." </p><p>Damn, it was odd to hear someone else sound fond of Jon too.</p><p>"Still, he never seems to stop and think that maybe, just maybe, he doesn't need to get involved. That he might get himself killed by throwing himself into harm's way when there were plenty of other options. I... I don't get it."</p><p>"What’s to get?"</p><p>"What?" Martin blinked at Daisy. </p><p>"I - I mean, it’s pretty standard stuff," Daisy added, lifting her skinny shoulders in another shrug.</p><p>"...What?"</p><p>Daisy coughed, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. "You used to see it all the time, back in the force, especially with the Sectioned. Not like there’s normal trauma, you know? But it’s pretty common. The most important thing becomes control, engaging on your own terms. Even when it’s stupid or dangerous. Anything to not feel helpless."</p><p>"Oh, god." Martin buried his head in his hands again. </p><p>"And of course, for Jon, there’s survivor’s guilt in there, too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very self-destructive. Right now, he's got people watching out for him. That's the best we can hope for, right?"</p><p>"No, I wouldn't call this the best option." Martin tried to stifle another hopeless laugh. "I've been trying to keep him away from - from this kind of trouble, and I know he's not coping, and I - I don't know how much more it'll take to fix any of this."</p><p>"You don't have to fix things on your own," Daisy told him. </p><p>"Yeah, I kinda do," Martin replied, sounding mildly hysterical to his own ears. "That's the deal."</p><p>"Not much of a deal, is it? If it's not working out for you."</p><p>"It's worked so far. Or at least, I thought so. If - when the others come back safe, we'll see what happens next. I guess." Martin hoped he at least sounded as if he believed what he was saying.</p><p>"Yeah. We'll see."</p><p>Daisy gave him a thin smile, and reached out to squeeze his hand. He jumped at the contact, then held on, to his own surprise.</p><p>She looked over his desk, then inhaled sharply. "You recording, or...?"</p><p>"Hm? Uh, oh, no, there was... hang on." Martin clicked the recorder off.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Why are you here?" Manuela asked, slumped against the wall of the research facility. Blood trickled past the hand clamped to her side, where Basira's first shot had grazed her. "Maxwell is dead. The ritual failed. What’s left?"</p><p>"A good question." Jon sighed and turned to his assistant. "Basira?"</p><p>"You said the dark sun was still here." Basira kept her gun trained on Manuela.</p><p>"Fine." Manuela tilted her head towards a massive steel door with an airtight seal around the edges. "If you’re so keen to take everything, undo the work of centuries, it’s just through that door."</p><p>"Jon?" Basira prompted him. </p><p>"How dangerous is it?"</p><p>"Only myself, Maxwell, and Natalie could even look upon it. It will annihilate you both in an instant." Manuela sounded smug, despite her situation.</p><p>"Ask her how we can destroy it," Basira ordered.</p><p>"I know how," Jon told her. "I just need to see it."</p><p>"See as in…?"</p><p>"As in, actually see it," Jon explained.</p><p>"Go ahead. Just try," Manuela dared him.</p><p>"Look, it’s okay, Jon. No one else knows it’s here," Basira reminded him. "If we just leave it, no one will know."</p><p>"No, I - I'm doing it," Jon announced. He'd dragged himself all the way out here, tired, hungry and terrified, wishing he'd done more to prepare. If there was only one thing he could do to protect the world from the Dark, and from the Eye... "Get out."</p><p>Basira hesitated, then retreated to the corridor. </p><p>Jon took a few steadying breaths, and opened the door. </p><p>The dark star filled his vision. A hole in the world. A peaceful terror, infinitely consuming, and entirely as glorious as Manuela had claimed. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>When Basira heard Manuela scream, she dashed back into the room.</p><p>Jon had collapsed on the floor. The dark star was gone. Manuela was staring in dismay at the space left behind by her thoroughly extinguished sun. </p><p>Manuela spun round and shot out the bulb of the high power torch that Jon had dropped, plunging the room into darkness.</p><p>Basira took aim at the sound of Manuela's footsteps and fired a couple of shots, but neither of them connected. </p><p>"Damn it, Jon..."</p><p>As Manuela's footsteps faded, Basira turned on her phone's torch and took a closer look at the Head Archivist. His eyes were wide open and pitch black. She closed his eyelids, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do about that. </p><p>He still had a pulse, at least. Not as bad as last time...</p><p>A door creaked open. Basira whirled round, gun at the ready, until she recognised the yellow paint. "Helen?"</p><p>"You seem to have found yourselves in a spot of trouble." Helen stepped out, a headache in humanoid form.</p><p>"Got a knack for it, these days." Basira sighed, glancing around the room. "Did you see Manuela...?"</p><p>"I offered her a door." Helen ran a long, sharp finger over her own doorframe, as if to illustrate her point.</p><p>"So she's contained?" Basira checked. </p><p>"Yes. I think I'll be keeping this one." Helen's smirk flickered across her face. </p><p>Basira nodded, refraining from bringing up the Jared incident again. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>"I've decided to help. No need to thank me. Would you like a way home?" </p><p>Basira weighed up the options, and nodded without much reluctance. Best to get Jon back to the Institute as soon as possible. "Yeah. Thanks. I'll text Peter once we're back in London."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Jon woke up to the faint glow of hospital machinery surrounding his bed. </p><p>He couldn't see his phone nearby, but with a bit of fumbling around in the half-light, he found the nurse call button, and pressed it without pulling much at the IVs in his wrist. Then he laid back on the pillow, stared at the ceiling, and tried to keep his eyes open.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Basira visited in the morning. </p><p>"Did the nurses tell you that it's been six days?" She checked, perched in the visitor's chair.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"We brought you back to the Institute first. Tried reading a few statements aloud to you, but it didn't seem to do much good."</p><p>"Ah." </p><p>Basira hesitated, then went ahead and asked the obvious question. "What were you thinking?"</p><p>"The dark sun?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Jon sighed, curling his fingers in the blanket. "It was beautiful. I wanted to stay in the darkness. But it dissipated, piece by piece, wherever I turned my gaze. Then the dreams started again, and I... My master won't let me rest."</p><p>"Right." Basira couldn't seem to find much else to say. </p><p>Jon buried his face in the pillow. "Martin didn't visit, did he?"</p><p>"No. Daisy broke the news that you were unconscious and unresponsive. He said you weren't allowed to do that again. The whole coma thing. Told us to let him know when you wake up, and do it via email if Peter's back in England. Which he is."</p><p>Jon exhaled into the fabric. He almost wanted to laugh, but couldn't quite bring himself to make a sound.</p><p>"Ready to go back to work?" Basira asked. </p><p>"...Not as if I have a choice."</p><p>"None of us do."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Interventions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Basira pulled up in the Institute's car park while Jon stared absently through the windows. The heat was stifling, outside the hospital; apparently the summer heatwave was still in full swing. Parts of the Institute had air con, but the basement was bound to be stuffy. The climate control system in Document Storage had never been fixed, even after Prentiss' attack. Michael Shelley would've been ashamed of them; he'd sounded quite invested in its installation, on that tape from eleven years ago. Funny how things changed. <em>Michael</em> had always seemed to find things funny. Or at least, it had laughed, even when they weren't.</p><p>Jon blinked as Basira opened the passenger side door from outside. When had she stepped out? He realised she'd been speaking just as she finished. She reached in to undo his seatbelt, and offered him a hand getting out of the car. </p><p>The heat reflecting off the tarmac drained him by the time they reached the edge of the building. Jon stepped into the shade and closed his eyes for a moment. The consuming darkness that he'd destroyed had been cool and still. Had he really spent six days suspended in oblivion, before slipping back into Beholding's grasp? It had felt like years, or minutes. </p><p>A memory of darkness spread behind his eyelids, granting him a sense of distance from the warmth of his current surroundings. The background noise of the city fell away, leaving him immersed in the aching non-sound that tends to follow a scream, when the silence takes on a strange and fragile quality no matter how long it stretches.</p><p>His knees hurt. Someone was squeezing his shoulders.</p><p>"...Jon? Can you hear me?"</p><p>"Ah... Basira...?" He blinked up at her. Why was he kneeling on the pavement? </p><p>"Think you can stand? If not, I could carry you, or call Daisy to give us a hand."</p><p>"I - I'm sure I can make it inside." Jon climbed to his feet, wincing as the world impinged on his senses again. "I'll, uh, take the lift to the Archives. No need to risk the stairs."</p><p>"Mm." Somehow, Basira managed to sound approving and disapproving at once. </p><p>Daisy was waiting for them in Reception, leaning against the counter while Rosie checked in a visitor. </p><p>"Welcome home," Daisy muttered, piling into the staff lift with them.</p><p>"Th-thank you." Jon leaned into her side while Basira pressed the button for the Archives. </p><p>Daisy tensed up when the doors closed, and relaxed when they opened again. She stuck to his side on the way to Document Storage. </p><p>"I'd better, uh, read a statement, and get some rest. Haven't fully recovered yet. We can talk later, if you'd like?" Jon suggested.</p><p>"Sure. Give us a shout if you need anything." </p><p>Once he had the room to himself, he grabbed a case file off the nearest shelf and carried it over to the cot. An encounter with the Vast during a flight gone wrong. The plane had crash landed in an endless ocean when its fuel had finally run out, after an eight hour countdown. The sole survivor had visited the Institute to spread the word about her new god, and the fathomless mercy it had shown her by granting her a true understanding of humanity's insignificance.</p><p>When the last word left his lips, his head hit the pillow, and his nightmares blanketed him in the fresh terror that he'd proven to need more desperately than air.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Been to lunch yet?" Basira asked, once Daisy had closed the door to Document Storage.</p><p>Daisy shook her head. "Waiting for you." </p><p>Basira trailed behind Daisy on the way up the stairs. Daisy's legs shook on each step, and she kept a white-knuckled grip on the bannister. Better than a few weeks ago, but that wasn't saying much. </p><p>They ran into Melanie in Reception, on her way back to the Archives with a stack of library books in her arms. </p><p>"Oh. You're already... He's back, then?" Melanie asked, clearly trying for a neutral tone.</p><p>"Yeah. Holed up with a statement, I think. Or asleep. They let him out of hospital, but he's definitely not at a hundred percent," Basira told her.</p><p>Melanie sighed, then put on a false smile. "Good thing I don't need anything from Document Storage anyway. I'll keep things quiet in the Archives. Wouldn't want to startle him awake."</p><p>Basira refused to react to the acid dripping from Melanie's last few words. Clearly, the amateur surgery was neither forgiven nor forgotten. But things were better this way, and by now, Melanie had to know that as well as anyone else.</p><p>"Sure. See you later." Basira headed on towards the canteen. She heard Daisy sigh and mutter something to Melanie before following. </p><p>The Institute's fish &amp; chips Fridays tended to be a cut above anything on offer the rest of the week. Basira accepted a full serving from the canteen staff, but Daisy only ordered a small portion of chips. When Daisy caught Basira's glare, she hesitated, glanced back at the hot food counter, then headed for the tills.</p><p>"Not hungry," Daisy muttered as she brushed past.</p><p>Basira added a bread roll to her own tray.</p><p>By the time they'd paid, the canteen had emptied out enough that they managed to grab a table to themselves. </p><p>"Told Martin yet?" Daisy asked, leaning her elbows on the table.</p><p>"Yeah, I emailed him from my phone. Eat your chips," Basira told her.</p><p>Daisy hummed and finished off a forkful before speaking again. "Did Jon try to call him?"</p><p>"No, he just asked me to add 'P.S. Jon misses you' to the end of the email."</p><p>"And did you?"</p><p>Basira shrugged. "Saw no reason not to."</p><p>Daisy laughed, smothering the sound with a mouthful of chips. Basira sighed and dug into her own meal.</p><p>"... Guess he'll be sending him a return to work form," Daisy added. "Cause of absence: spooky coma #2. Evil antimatter version."</p><p>"Mm." </p><p>"Heard back from Peter yet?"</p><p>"No. Either he ignores all his emails, or he's got no intention of removing that tracker." </p><p>Basira flipped her phone open and brought up the tracking app. When Tadeus had installed it on Peter's phone, he'd added it on hers too at Jon's request, as an extra precaution before the mission. The map had shown Jon's location at the hospital for the last few days, but it wasn't picking up a signal while he was in the Archives. She ought to have expected as much from a basement full of creepy magic. Even CCTV hadn't worked properly.</p><p>"That's... not good." Daisy frowned, sliding a chip along the edge of her plate.</p><p>"Might not be such a bad idea, leaving it on," Basira replied. "We're not exactly safe in London either. Plenty of enemies keeping tabs on us. If he's kidnapped a fourth time..." </p><p>"Did you see anything today...?" Daisy checked, leaning in.</p><p>"Yeah. A member of the People’s Church of the Divine Host was watching us from the building opposite the hospital," Basira told her. "As an organisation, they won't be pulling off a ritual anytime soon. But the individual survivors could still be dangerous."</p><p>"Plenty of them around," Daisy acknowledged. "Does Jon mind wearing it?"</p><p>"When I told him we could make the best of it, he didn't look happy, but he didn't argue."</p><p>"Hm." Daisy bit into another chip. </p><p>"I offered to ask Martin to chase Peter up about removing it, but Jon vetoed that idea pretty hard," Basira added. "Said he wouldn't want Martin taking any extra risks for his sake, since Peter doesn't take kindly to disagreement."</p><p>"Could search his office," Daisy suggested.</p><p>"Maybe. Let's talk it through later." Basira dug into her meal again, but paused when Daisy gave her a look. "It's not as if Elias can't tell Peter where we are at any given time anyway."</p><p>"Mm." Daisy glanced around the canteen, then sighed and shook her head. "Yeah. Later."</p><p>They ate in a mildly awkward silence. Maybe a 4 out of 10, compared to other recent silences. The entire department was alive, for now, so broadly speaking, things were looking up. Technically.</p><p>Daisy sighed and leaned in again. "What's on your mind?"</p><p>Basira met her gaze, then looked down to butter the bread roll. "I'm getting seriously worried about Jon's priorities." </p><p>"What else is new?" Daisy cracked a smile, only to let it fade as the quiet stretched on. "Hey. We can debrief him later. Lessons learned, and all that."</p><p>"I don't think he's learned anything," Basira told her. "He knew he didn't have to take out the dark sun. There are other powers around that might actually be planning rituals, and they should've been a higher priority. He's lucky he woke up, but he didn't exactly sound happy about it, and now he's going to be dead weight until he's recovered. Despite all that, I don't think he even regrets it."</p><p>Daisy nodded, holding her gaze. "Not surprised."</p><p>Basira took a few seconds to study her expression. Calm and certain. "Why not?"</p><p>"While ago, I asked him why he went into the coffin." Daisy started arranging her chips into a row, without looking down. "He said he's not sure he made the right decision, surviving the Unknowing by becoming 'something else'. Thinks maybe he should have died instead. Thought the coffin might've killed him. Or I might've. And he figured that might not have been a bad thing. Not as bad as losing someone he could've saved. If he can face a threat alone... 'Worst case scenario, the universe loses another monster.' His words, not mine."</p><p>Basira took a few moments to get her thoughts in order, ignoring the prickling of some kind of emotion. The sort that wouldn't help. The only way to deal with all of this was to stay objective.</p><p>"He wasn't alone on that mission. I was right there beside him, in hostile territory. If he wants to be useful to the rest of us, to convince us he's not just a monster, then he ought to try listening to us, not hurting himself for the sake of it and leaving us to deal with the fallout."</p><p>"Tell him so," Daisy suggested.</p><p>"I will. The 'worst case scenario' there was Jon dying, and Peter getting pissed off at me for a mission gone wrong while I was stranded in Svalbard."</p><p>"Hey..." Daisy reached across the table to clasp her hands. </p><p>Basira returned the gesture. "He didn't have my back, like you would've."</p><p>Something in Daisy's expression turned distant.</p><p>"I know, it wouldn't have made sense for you to be there this time," Basira added in a hurry. "I just wish he'd shape up. He ignored me on the trip north too, when he tried to get a statement from that sailor."</p><p>Daisy hummed in thought, and took a few moments to reply. "Too much pressure."</p><p>"The rest of us don't have it any easier." </p><p>"We're all in the same boat. Makes sense to work together," Daisy replied, stroking the sides of her hands. "Still, he doesn't have police training, like us. Or decades of experience, like Gertrude. Been in this role for, what, three years in October? Awake for about two. In over his head the whole time. He hears the fate of the world's hanging on the strength of his abilities, no plan beyond recon, only one ally against overwhelming odds... Can see why he'd get scared, try to grab an advantage wherever he could. Doesn't mean he'll repeat that mistake. He hasn't asked Rosie to go back to sending statement givers to the Archives for interview, has he?"</p><p>"He's gotta know we'd have something to say about that." Basira gripped Daisy's hands, and felt her squeeze back.</p><p>"Next time something like this comes up, we can try a different approach. More like the plan for the Unknowing. Get in, plant explosives, get out, detonate. He didn't try to drag anyone else into that, cause he had no reason to."</p><p>"And that worked out great, didn't it?" Basira heard the tension in her own voice, and briefly wished she'd kept her mouth shut, but Daisy didn't seem bothered.</p><p>"I just mean, we can handle him differently. The two of you investigating? Could've been a good plan, if you'd worked well together." Daisy offered her a soft smile. "If we'd planned the Ny-Ålesund mission knowing what we know now about Jon's limits, without knowing the ritual had failed... Maybe you could've hired a mercenary or two. Asked Jon to help interview them, to see if they were trustworthy. Asked Martin to get Peter on board with the plan, to cover the cost. Done some recon. Captured a cultist. Left Jon in London, and called him during the interrogation. He could probably compel answers over a video call. We could test that out."</p><p>"Yeah. That'd be worth knowing, for future reference." Basira let out a breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding. </p><p>"The way he's been talking lately... He knows he could use more guidance. We'll get better results if we keep that in mind. Can't really expect him to be the equivalent of special forces, a fully fledged monster, and a harmless human being, all at once."</p><p>"Gertrude managed to be whatever she needed to be in any given situation," Basira pointed out, though in all honesty, she was just venting at this point.</p><p>"Again: decades of experience. Maybe Jon'll get there, maybe not. We've all got a better chance of surviving the next few years if we stick together."</p><p>Basira nodded, and glanced down at their plates - hers empty, Daisy's half full. "You haven't finished your lunch."</p><p>"Had enough."</p><p>Basira wasted a few seconds trying to stare her down, then grabbed the bread roll and filled it with chips. Daisy raised an eyebrow as Basira pressed the result into her hand. </p><p>"Try a chip butty." Basira put on her best no-nonsense tone. </p><p>A half-smile spread across Daisy's face. She took a bite, then set the rest aside.</p><p>"...Thanks. That's definitely enough."</p><p>Basira stared into her eyes. Daisy just kept smiling at her.</p><p>"It's not all bad news, right?" Daisy added. "He's not as capable as we'd hoped, but he's loyal. Followed you into danger because you asked him to. You know he'd go to the ends of the Earth for us. Or further. If we've gotta set his head straight about a few things... He's worth the effort."</p><p>"Yeah," Basira agreed quietly. She didn't add <em>'I hope so'</em>. Too doubtful a sentiment to share, at least while Daisy had that look in her eyes.</p><p>Daisy froze up, and glanced around the cafeteria. </p><p>"What?" Basira asked, without looking round.</p><p>"Feeling watched." Daisy sounded frustrated enough to indicate that she hadn't located the cause.</p><p>"More so than usual?" Basira checked.</p><p>"Yeah." Daisy kept scanning the edges of the room.</p><p>"Let's get out of here for a bit," Basira suggested.</p><p>"Yeah. Fresh air." </p><p>Daisy sighed and followed her out of the cafeteria, shoulders hunched inwards until they stepped out of a side door into Atterbury street. </p><p>By unspoken agreement, they headed for Millbank Gardens, a small strip of greenery behind the Institute. The flowers were in full bloom, and the grass was clearly benefiting from the bright summer days. A few other staff were scattered around, finishing up their lunches on park benches or wandering beneath the trees.</p><p>Basira led Daisy onto the lawn, then turned to face her. "Go on, then. Do your exercises."</p><p>Daisy made her way through a few careful stretches before turning back to her, a slow smile spreading across her face. She leaned sideways, then tipped into a cartwheel. Her limbs visibly trembled, but she completed it anyway, a brief laugh escaping her lips. </p><p>Basira walked over and took hold of her hands. Daisy returned her grip, warm and steady, then knelt in the grass and pulled her down too. Once Basira had gotten comfortable, Daisy rested her head in her lap and stretched out.</p><p>Basira followed Daisy's gaze upwards, and joined her in watching a few wisps of cloud drift across the bright blue sky. Days like this were a rarity, around here.</p><p>After a while, Daisy half-closed her eyes. She hummed quietly, deep in her throat, and started playing with Basira's fingers.</p><p>"What are you thinking?" Basira asked, indulging her own idle curiosity.</p><p>"I could die happy, out here," Daisy answered, sounding dozy. </p><p>When Basira tensed up, Daisy blinked and squeezed her hand. </p><p>"Hey, not yet," Daisy added softly. "I didn't mean... Not yet."</p><p>"You don't need to think that way. We'll get through this. Carve out a future, no matter what it takes."</p><p>"Basira, I..." Daisy sat up and leaned in close, speaking quietly. "I'm human. I want to be human. Better than never dying. We know how that goes."</p><p>Basira stared at her, struggling to find a response. After a few moments, she glanced around, remembering to stay vigilant.</p><p>She caught a glimpse of movement in the window of a building overlooking the park. An unseen gaze prickled at the back of her neck.</p><p>"Time to head back inside," Basira decided, rising to her feet. </p><p>Daisy followed without argument, glancing up at that same window.</p><p>When they reached the Archives, there was a tape lying on Daisy's desk. </p><p>Melanie was busy with some research at her own desk, multitasking with something on her phone.</p><p>"Did anyone stop by while we were out?" Basira asked, heading over to take a look at the tape.</p><p>"No. Who would?" Melanie followed her gaze and frowned. "That wasn't there before. I - I'd have noticed if anyone had come in."</p><p>There was a post-it note stuck to the tape, bearing a few words in Martin's handwriting. 'PLEASE TALK TO HIM.'</p><p>"Martin," Basira told the others.</p><p>"So he was the one eavesdropping earlier," Daisy added, her eyes flicking up in the direction of the cafeteria.</p><p>"Are you saying he can...?" Melanie blinked and shook her head. "Nevermind. He's been getting friendly with Lukas. Shouldn't have been surprised. This place keeps getting better and better."</p><p>"Let's find a tape player and have a listen," Basira suggested.</p><p>Daisy and Melanie both took a couple of seconds to find a spare tape recorder within reach. Basira almost tripped over one half-hidden beneath the desk. </p><p>When Basira played the mystery tape, it didn't take long for her veins to fill with ice. She should've suspected. Done something before Jon had ever gone this far. She shouldn't have been surprised.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Manuela drowned another faceless sacrifice, reliving her doomed ritual. Jon stood on the other side of the dark water, watching as the sacrifice scratched and flailed, gouging bloody lines down Manuela's arms.</p><p>Shards of laughter cut the air as she dragged another faceless body into the water. Shadows seeped in through the cuts, staining the air with an impossible darkness, even while the sun escaped the edge of the eclipse.</p><p>The world folded in on itself, tipping Jon and Manuela into the water. A writhing mass of tangled limbs and sharp nails dragged them down. She gasped for air, and swallowed brackish water instead. Even while he choked, Jon stared unblinkingly at the pain writ across her face, knowing that she could see the same agony in his eyes. The Ceaseless Watcher gorged itself on their unwilling worship.</p><p>Jon felt himself hit the floor, and blinked awake with a gasp. Basira was standing over him. She'd tipped the cot over. He was lying on the floor of Document Storage. Daisy and Melanie were there too. All three of them looked furious.</p><p>"Uh...?" Jon started to sit up, but his head swam. He stayed down, and took a deep breath, taking a moment to confirm that his lungs weren't waterlogged.</p><p>Melanie's fists clenched. "What the hell have you been doing, Jon?"</p><p>"Martin left a tape for us," Basira added.</p><p>"Wh-what..."</p><p>Basira held up the tape. At a glance, Jon knew what it was about, just as he knew how to summarise any statement that he picked up, even before reading it for the first time. <em>Statement of unknown bystander regarding an encounter with The Archivist.</em> Jess hadn't told Martin her name.</p><p>"Oh." Jon made another attempt to rise, and managed to drag himself into sitting cross-legged on the floor. His vision blacked out for a few moments; he leaned his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands until it passed. When he blinked up at the others, they were still waiting for something more. </p><p>He should say or do something, shouldn't he? But he didn't know what to do. Wasn't that why they were all here? He hadn't figured out what to do about his problems before they became everyone else's problems too.</p><p>"How many?" Basira asked, the coldest he'd ever heard her. </p><p>"I, uh..."</p><p>"How many?" Basira demanded, even colder.</p><p>"...F-four?" Jon guessed that was the total she'd want. </p><p>"Fuck." Melanie turned away, looking about ready to punch something.</p><p>"A-assuming you're not counting Manuela, or Jared, or Breekon, or anyone who made a statement before the Unknowing, uh, knowingly or not," Jon added. Back then, he hadn't realised things could get this much worse.</p><p>"Yeah, no. Not counting the monsters, or the old news," Basira confirmed. An expression that had flickered across her face while he'd been talking had indicated that Jared was another problem altogether. </p><p>"You attacked four people, out of the blue?" Melanie gestured at the tape.</p><p>Basira stared past him. "Do I even want to know?"</p><p>"<em>I</em> do," Melanie insisted.</p><p>"Jess Tyrell, the woman on the tape, sh-she was the last. I - I just tried to - I was weak. R-ravenous, I, I, I didn’t feel... The first was a supermarket cleaner, um, ended up lost for a week in an endless warehouse. I didn’t even... I, I just went in for some shopping, and he was there, and I just... asked. The second was... it was after I got stabbed by Melanie."</p><p>"You are <em>not </em>putting this on me!" Melanie snarled.</p><p>"No, that’s not what I meant. I was walking the streets. I - I thought I was trying to clear my head..."</p><p>"But you were hunting," Daisy finished for him.</p><p>"Apparently. I, I found a woman who, every year on her birthday, wakes up in a fresh grave, just for her." </p><p>Jon's mind chose that moment to flash back to Epping Forest, last spring. The grave they'd dug for Mike Crew. If Basira hadn't intervened, there'd have been a second grave, just for him. Was that option on the cards again? Even after the Buried? Daisy wouldn't bury him alive, at least. He knew that much for certain. Neither of them would ever have to endure that again.</p><p>"The third was after the coffin," Daisy guessed.</p><p>"A man rejected by all who knew him, s-searching ever darker places for love. When he told me his story, he started weeping maggots."</p><p>Listening to his statement had dredged up echoes of Jane's words. The fear and devotion that had flowed into him from the page, showing him how the hive had led her astray. Hollowed out everything she used to be, and loved her in return. '<em>Not loved as you would understand it. A deeper, more primal love. A need as much as a feeling. Love that consumes you in all ways.</em>'</p><p>The maggots were a step up from the worms, in his dreams.</p><p>"Enough." </p><p>Basira took a firm tone, to cover up the fear creeping beneath her skin. Jon turned to her and nodded.</p><p>"I... I hope so." Even as Jon spoke, he knew that Beholding disagreed. Nothing would ever be enough.</p><p>"Why didn't you record them?" Melanie sounded shaken.</p><p>"Why do you think? Because he was ashamed," Basira replied.</p><p>"No, I... I mean, I don’t record anything anymore, n-not really. I sort of assume they’ll turn on if it’s important," Jon explained.</p><p>"Well, they didn’t." Basira stared down at him.</p><p>"No, I suppose not." Jon glanced around the room. Nobody seemed willing to make the next move.</p><p>Eventually, Melanie sighed. "So. What do we do now?"</p><p>"I don’t know," Jon admitted. </p><p>"You’re a danger, Jon. A monster. You’re hurting innocent people." </p><p>Basia still sounded shocked. No matter how thoroughly she'd doubted him lately, she'd clearly expected better than this. </p><p>Did that mean she'd be taking matters into her own hands, while she had him cornered? Wasn't that a little hypocritical?</p><p>"You preferred Daisy that way," Jon reminded her.</p><p>Daisy made a small pained noise, and tried to stifle it.</p><p>"That's not - she wasn't - she was never the same. And this isn't about her," Basira snapped, completely incensed. </p><p>In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have said that. True or not.</p><p>"This is the real Daisy. She's spent every waking hour resisting the Hunt after shaking its influence, and I'm here for her. I always will be," Basira insisted. "<em>You've</em> been insisting that you're the same Jon we've always known. Even while you hid this from us. You knew exactly what you were doing."</p><p>"Do you think I wouldn't shake Beholding's influence, if I could? I - I can't leave. None of us can leave. You know that. I'd die if I walked away. I'd die without statements. And I - it doesn't feel as if the written ones are enough anymore. Each one helps, but over time I still get ever more exhausted until... I - I do try to avoid anything more, but I... it feels... I don’t know if I can control it. I don’t know if it’s even me doing it, n-not really."</p><p>"You can't live that way, Jon. You've already gone too far, and if you give in, it'll only get worse," Melanie told him. "That's how all of these powers work, isn't it? Not just the Slaughter. If you let an evil god consume you, if you do what it wants you to do, then you're no better than any other monster."</p><p>"I know, but I - I don't even know if it's just Beholding. When I feed even though I didn't want to, I... I think it might be the Web, too. Sometimes, in the statements, it makes people do things, and they rationalise it all away as something they must have wanted, even when they failed at talking themselves out of it. Or they try to dig in their heels, but can't hold out forever. I've been... I really think it might be the Web."</p><p>"So there's a chance you’re being controlled," Basira summarised. "What was that name you said before? Annabelle Cane..."</p><p>"Yes, uh, she... she's been watching us, I’m pretty sure of it."</p><p>"Uh, Jon." Melanie's tone had shifted to include a shade more pity. "I - I'm not sure that it's actually the - "</p><p>"No, if he is being controlled, we need to know," Basira interrupted. "And we need to know <em>now</em>. Do you know where she is?"</p><p>"N-not... not properly. I - I think she may have some connection to Hill Top Road? It's a stronghold of the Web."</p><p>"Right. I'll look into it," Basira decided.</p><p>"H-how?" Jon asked her. "I've been meaning to have another look for relevant statements, but f-finding anything in this place is, uh..."</p><p>"Oxford's only an hour and a half's drive from here. I'll head out now." Basira gave Daisy and Melanie a stern look. "You two keep an eye on him in the meantime."</p><p>"I'll go with you," Daisy offered.</p><p>"You sure?" Basira sounded conflicted.</p><p>"Yeah. The Web's been watching us for a while. Pretty sure it doesn't want us dead. Not right now, at least. The most likely worst case scenario is that we leave empty handed. With any luck, we'll gather some intel. If anything goes wrong, I'll get us out of there. I've got your back," Daisy assured her. </p><p>"Thanks." Basira gave her a relieved smile.</p><p>"Let's just take a minute to prepare, alright? I've got some magnesium flares stashed in the tunnels," Daisy told her. "He said spiders don't like fire."</p><p>"I - I should come too." Jon made a move towards standing, but slid back down when it gave him a head rush. </p><p>"What? No." Basira gave him an incredulous look.</p><p>"I might be able to help..."</p><p>"I wouldn't bring you along even if I could trust you. You've just gotten out of hospital," Basira reminded him. "You're not up to the trip. Nevermind the spiders. Could you even handle the stairs?"</p><p>"I could wait in the car?" Jon offered.</p><p>"No. For fuck's sake, Jon..." Basira's tone was edging into exasperation. "I'm not letting you loose on Oxford, and I'm not leaving you locked in my car on a hot day."</p><p>"Oh. F-fair enough."</p><p>Basira rolled her eyes, then turned to Melanie. "You'll stay and keep an eye on him, right?"</p><p>"Oh, sure. It's not as if I've got anything better to do," Melanie hissed, her discomfort shining through her sarcasm. After a few moments, she wilted beneath Basira's stare. "...I know. I'll be here. You should worry about yourselves. That place is..."</p><p>"Worth investigating," Basira insisted. "All goes well, we'll be back this evening."</p><p>"And what if you're not?" Melanie asked, her fear rising closer to the surface.</p><p>"Then we've got bigger problems than Jon, and they'd have caught up with us anyway, sooner or later." Basira let that sink in for a moment, then turned to Daisy. "Let's get moving."</p><p>As the others left Document Storage, Melanie gave Jon a suspicious look.</p><p>"I'm s-sure they'll be fine," Jon said, trying to reassure himself as much as her.</p><p>"Shut up," Melanie snapped, flipping the cot upright again.</p><p>Jon nodded, and stayed on the floor, in no great hurry to move.</p><p>Melanie went to lean against the end of the nearest set of shelves and rubbed her eyes. After a few moments of tense silence, she sighed and glared at him again. "Did you really think they'd let you go with them?"</p><p>"I... well, obviously it was a bad idea, once she pointed it out," Jon acknowledged.</p><p>"Once she pointed it out," Melanie repeated, in a terribly flat tone of voice.</p><p>Jon curled up around his knees, trying to figure out how to explain even that much. "I, I mean lately, my limits don't seem to matter. I get pushed past them anyway, one way or another. So it hardly seems worth considering them."</p><p>Melanie let her head fall back against the shelves. "Fuck, this is messed up..."</p><p>Jon rubbed his fingers over the burn scar on his hand, sensing that this wasn't the time to voice his agreement. He glanced at the shelves. Maybe he ought to get back to work, now that he was awake.</p><p>"Why didn't you tell us?" Melanie asked, breaking the silence again. </p><p>"I'm pretty sure that if I'd told you and Basira when it first started, you'd have killed me," Jon admitted. "When I woke up from that coma, Basira asked <em>'what are you?'</em>, before a-anything had even happened, and you threatened me on sight, called me '<em>something with my face</em>'. And I - even if I was worried that you might be right, I wanted to try to stop. To gain control of my powers, or escape Beholding, not just... At worst, I thought I should push on with my research, because even if I shouldn't have woken up, sh-shouldn't be alive at this cost, I still ought to make use of the chance to accomplish something. Gertrude needed sacrifices for her work with a disturbing regularity, and it'd be a waste to die, only for the rest of you to find out afterwards that you could've used me to stop a ritual. With the coffin, and the dark sun, I, I knew I could try to accomplish something that nobody else could do, to leave you all better off, whether I survived or not."</p><p>"What? You can't - can't sneak around behind our backs, hurting people, a-and expect us to thank you for fucking around with every dangerous artefact that crossed your path in case it stopped you when you couldn't stop yourself. You never gave <em>us </em>the chance to intervene, before it came to that. Asking Basira or Daisy for help would've been... better, obviously better, on every level. If you really wanted to control yourself, or escape, or prioritise the greater threats, then they would've helped, even when I had my own problems, a-and you can't use <em>me </em>as an excuse for not telling anyone <em>else</em>."</p><p>Jon hesitated, picking at the worm scars on his arms as her words sunk in. "I was trying to psych myself up to tell Daisy. We've been talking a lot about the Hunt, recently, and what it takes to resist it. How to stay in the right state of mind. I thought I'd try to apply the same principles to myself. And if that didn't work, and if researching the Web didn't turn up any results, then I - I'd talk to her."</p><p>Melanie gritted her teeth, looking angrier, if anything. Her voice was highly strained when she replied. "Jon. Every time you take someone's statement, they suffer the consequences for the rest of their life. If you gave a damn about anyone else, you should've done whatever it took to stop, n-not just let yourself fail again and again. Busying yourself with endless research was never going to work."</p><p>Jon tangled his fingers in his hair. "...You're right. I'm sorry."</p><p>"You can't fix this with an apology."</p><p>"Wh-whatever it does take to fix this, we'll figure it out, right? Now that everyone knows." Jon risked another glance at her, and she still looked thoroughly unimpressed. "I - I do give a damn. I really do. I've just made a mess of things."</p><p>"No kidding." Melanie closed her eyes for a moment, then gave him a strange look. "Remember the Cambridge Military Hospital? Those dreams where something that looked a bit like Sarah Baldwin peeled off my skin and stapled it back on? She got you too, whenever you tried to help. Or the nights when the <em>thing </em>that inhabited the place threw us around like ragdolls?" </p><p>Jon waited for her to continue, but she seemed to have paused in expectation of an answer. "I remember, yes."</p><p>"I hadn't realised it was possible to feel that kind of pain in a dream, until those nightmares started. And it shouldn't be, should it? They weren't just dreams. But I didn't know that at the time. I thought it was all the product of my imagination, in the privacy of my own head. And you watched for almost a year, keeping those memories festering. I couldn't move on. Couldn't find it in myself to do anything but obsess over that encounter. It was exactly the sort of thing I'd devoted my life to anyway. My calling. So, yeah. I investigated. I came back to tell you about the train graveyard, to tell someone who'd understand, and spent the next few weeks getting stabbed in my sleep, while I spent my waking hours tracking down something worse. And I got shot, and I would've told you about that too, but then I signed up here, and all of a sudden, my nightmares were mine alone. You weren't there, and things were more hazy and surreal again. Dreamlike. </p><p>I didn't think you had anything to do with it, even then. The Institute, maybe, but not the real Jon. Not until Basira told me about these dreams she'd been having, before she'd joined the staff, and asked whether the same thing had happened to me. Daisy had been asking questions, getting her thinking, those last few weeks before the Unknowing."</p><p>Melanie paused, her gaze fixed on him while she thought.</p><p>"Yes, I - I heard the two of them talking about that, on one of the tapes," Jon told her, in case that was the right thing to say. "I h-hadn't been entirely sure that they weren't just my dreams, about you all, until then. Admittedly, that had been... ever more wishful thinking. I shouldn't have been in denial for so long."</p><p>Melanie bit back a laugh. "When Basira decided to bring it up, we thought it went well, at the time. Remember that meeting, in the tunnels? She suggested we leave Rosie to interview all the statement givers, because we didn't have much time for routine work while we were busy researching the Unknowing. You stared at her like a deer caught in headlights, and stammered out an agreement that '<em>yes, that would be for the best</em>'. </p><p>You'd invaded our minds. You knew that she knew. It was obvious. So she pushed a bit further, and suggested we leave Rosie to deal with all the visitors even after the Unknowing, to free up time for everything else. Before she'd even finished the question, you said yes, and left in a hurry. </p><p>And I figured, you were new to it all. We'd been figuring things out together. You must not have known what would happen, when you took our statements. You wouldn't have hurt us if you'd known. You'd basically agreed to stop, even if we hadn't really talked about it without a veneer of plausible deniability. Fuck knows why I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt..."</p><p>Melanie trailed off, rubbing her eyes. </p><p>Jon sat quietly, unsure whether she wanted him to do anything but listen. </p><p>"You know, people are different, right?" Melanie asked, her voice high with a kind of tension that was closer to exhaustion than irony. "People have different limits. You shouldn't feed people to the Eye. Full stop. But if you do, some people will cope better than others, because the things they've been through... Everyone fears different things, that've impacted them in different ways. Do you think Basira would've quit the police, if she hadn't been dwelling on the worst parts of the job since talking to you? But at least, for us, it was a reminder of stuff we'd originally chosen to deal with. Jess isn't like us, is she? No drive to linger on whatever she encountered, to study it until she understands it, or protect the public by destroying it herself. She just wanted to leave it behind without letting it break her. And you didn't let her. You're ruining her life."</p><p>Melanie paused, breathing heavily. Jon curled in on himself, trying not to make a sound.</p><p>"If there was a - a bullet that I could cut out of you, to return the favour, I'd do that, you know?" Melanie added. "If I could free you from whatever's consuming you, and give you a chance to piece yourself together again..."</p><p>"If there was a bullet that you could cut out of me, I'd let you. Or I'd remove it myself," Jon told her. "I wish... If there's a way to stop this, I'll find it, or hope that the others find it, now that they're on the trail. I - I shouldn't have let things get this bad, e-even if the solution that it might come down to is a - a bullet in the opposite direction."</p><p>"Do you think any of us want that?" Melanie asked, and oh, fuck, now she was crying.</p><p>"M-maybe not?" Jon guessed.</p><p>"Damn it, Jon." Melanie rubbed her eyes, then turned away, her gaze finding the nearest shelf of unsorted statements. "I... I'm going to chip away at the filing for a while. Chances of finding anything useful are, uh, needle in a haystack odds, but you never know."</p><p>"I'll, uh, I should do the same. You could pass me a box of files...?"</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Basira and Daisy returned to the Institute at 19:23, woke Jon up again, and handed him the statement of Annabelle Cane, written Friday 22nd June, 2018.</p><p>Jon read it in Document Storage, hoping to find the reason his willpower always crumbled when he starved himself.</p><p>It wasn't the Web.</p><p>Basira let herself into the room ten minutes after he'd stopped recording. She took back the statement, written on official Institute paper, and filed it away with the tape. Daisy joined them and left the door open, an unreadable look in her eyes.</p><p>"What next...?" Jon asked, coughing when his voice came out hoarse. </p><p>"You'll stop feeding on people's trauma. We'll all keep looking for a way to quit this place," Basira replied. She made it sound like a simple, two step plan.</p><p>"Is it that simple...? I've tried not to, this whole time, or at least I thought I did, when it wasn't mission critical - "</p><p>"Then you'll try harder," Basira told him. "Don't be evil. If that's too much to ask? I'll kill you."</p><p>"We'll find a way forwards," Daisy added, perching next to him on the cot. "Keep an eye on each other. If you stick to written statements, try not to exert yourself..."</p><p>"Don't go anywhere without letting us know," Basira ordered. "If you try to slip away, I'll find you. If I see you talking to anyone unfamiliar, I'll assume you've compelled them unless you can prove otherwise."</p><p>"...Oh." Jon leaned against Daisy's side when she took hold of his hand. Things would be different, at least. </p><p>"When you feed Beholding, it strengthens your powers. The way they take effect, that's... not good," Daisy told him, putting it mildly. "If you want to backtrack, to cut out the more recent developments, like... seeing people outside of the nightmares, while you're awake? The way they see you, at the corner of their vision? Best chance to stop that is to weaken your powers. Reverse course, as hard as you can. Read a statement when you absolutely need to. When you can't put it off without getting ill. Try to keep Beholding out of your head the rest of the time, instead of trying to <em>know </em>all the things we could stand to know. We'll use other resources instead."</p><p>Jon nodded against Daisy's shoulder. She stayed when Basira left. He focused on the sound of her breath to stave off panic, and fell asleep while she squeezed his hand as tightly as she had in the coffin.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Jon managed to stay awake for more of Saturday than Friday, and for more of Sunday than Saturday, gradually recovering from the effects of viewing the dark sun in its entirety. </p><p>Basira looked particularly tense whenever he woke up. He knew, without trying, that she couldn't stop wondering whose dreams he'd been sharing. She never asked.</p><p>They worked through the weekend, and made significant progress with the discredited section.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>On Sunday evening, while they were skimming old reports and listening to the Archers in his office, Jon nudged Daisy's shoulder to draw her attention.</p><p>"Want to sneak into Elias's - Peter's office with me? The lock was still broken, last time I checked. If it's been fixed, you could break it again, couldn't you?"</p><p>"Yeah...? Why?" Daisy switched off the show.</p><p>"Oh, I... when I had a look around the other week, I found a box of tapes and files that Elias hid away there. Or that he just happened to be working on. I didn't want to leave the room looking too obviously disturbed, in case Peter's using it more often than it seems, so I just took one tape to start with," Jon explained.</p><p>"What was on it?" Daisy prompted him.</p><p>"Ah, that first tape was one of Gertrude's recordings. A statement about a failed Slaughter ritual in 1942. Worth knowing."</p><p>"Hm." Daisy tilted her head, waiting for him to continue.</p><p>"That's all, so far. I've been trying to find things in the Archives, too. Sort of gotten the knack of focusing on the whole of Document Storage, or Gertrude's notes, until I have a hunch about where to find something important. Though the effort tends to leave me, ah, a bit hungrier, so it might not be worth it anymore. And then we had that field trip..."</p><p>"Gertrude's tapes." Daisy leaned in, her eyes glinting. "Does listening to them feed you, like recording statements? Or is it more like watching someone else eat a meal?"</p><p>"I... hadn't thought of it in those terms." Jon paused to do so. "I don't feel the statement givers' fear and confusion as if it were my own, like I do when I read things out loud. Like she must have done, when she read them. I can feel the Watcher's presence, and my own curiosity about what happened, especially if it falls short of explaining things we need to know. And when I get curious, I often find myself <em>knowing</em> extra details, the sort that get airdropped into my head, which tends to tire me out. The stories stay on my mind, and it's hard to focus on anything else, besides further research. More statements. So her tapes are, I suppose, more like an appetising scent than an actual meal. Though it's not a perfect analogy. That sort of preoccupation... does it sound anything like, uh, what 'listening to the blood' feels like for you?"</p><p>"Yeah." Daisy frowned in thought. "Best be careful."</p><p>"I, I thought, I'm more awake and clear-headed today than I have been the last couple of days. If we're going to investigate our situation, then I - I think I could deal with a tape, right now?" </p><p>"How many are there, in his office?"</p><p>"About two hundred, maybe? I didn't think to count them."</p><p>"An hour each, if we check both sides. Tons more than we could get through in one go, even if we didn't have to worry about Peter cracking down for Elias's sake." Daisy leaned back in her chair. "Still. Could be good intel."</p><p>"Should we risk it, then?"</p><p>"Yeah. You can grab another tape, and see how long it takes you to shake off the effects. If it leaves you hungry, makes things difficult, then you don't have to worry about the rest. I'll work through them with Basira."</p><p>"Oh. If she'd want to... Uh, she hasn't shared much of her research with me, in recent months, except the information about Rayner and the People's Church, and the way that worked out... I'm not sure she'll trust me with any more discoveries. If there's anything important on those tapes, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"</p><p>"Anything you ought to know, yeah." Daisy headed for the door.</p><p>"That's not actually much of an answer." Jon rose to his feet, then leaned on the back of his chair until his head stopped spinning.</p><p>"You noticed." Daisy held the door open until he followed her, then led the way to the lift. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"<em>You’re really pushing it, you know that?</em>" Arthur Nolan's voice spilled from the tape player, low and frustrated.</p><p>"<em>Hm</em>." There was an audible smirk in Gertrude's voice. "<em>Feel free to push back. But until then, get out of my Archives.</em>"</p><p>The statement ended with a click. </p><p>Daisy laughed, leaning her elbows on Jon's desk. "Gertrude really was something, wasn't she?"</p><p>"Mm." Jon stared at the tape as it spun on quietly. He knew there was nothing else recorded on this one. He knew a few other things, too.</p><p>"Weren't you looking into Eugene a few weeks ago?" Daisy asked. "Did you find out what happened to him?"</p><p>"Apparently not. I thought he was still around, but now, thinking about it, I, uh, <em>know </em>better."</p><p>"Gertrude killed him, then?" Daisy guessed.</p><p>"He wishes she did." Jon rested his head on his arms. "She left him infused with sawdust. Decapitated. Immobilised by the agonizing grit mixed into the wax that he chose instead of flesh. I don’t know where Gertrude stored his head. But I do know it desperately wants to scream."</p><p>"Right..." Daisy nudged his shoulder. "How are you holding up?"</p><p>"Not great. This didn't help. I was already tired, but I - I don't know. Maybe I ought to rest. Try to stop thinking."</p><p>"Getting hungry?" Daisy asked, a wary edge to her tone.</p><p>"Well, yes. But it's not just that. I - I've spent these past few years chasing answers, but the more I learn, the more it seems like there are none to be found. Not on any meaningful level. Just these incomprehensible, unthinking entities, inspiring their followers to scheme and fight and lash out without ever really knowing what they're meant to be doing. For as long as I've been entangled with the supernatural, I've wanted to understand it, to make sense of it, but nobody's ever truly understood the source of all this suffering. Not even Gertrude. She just focused on the monsters in front of her. The things she could kill. And even then, her actions were twisted against her. She tried to banish a demon messiah, and her ritual left her burning for the rest of her life, tethered to her worst enemies. </p><p>These powers trap us and deceive us, and the only outcome seems to be misery for the sake of misery. Wherever we go, whatever we do, we only ever find more broken people trying to come to terms with the wreckage of their lives. I can't afford to get complacent right now, to give up on fixing things, but anything can backfire, even for someone like Gertrude, and I... m-more or less anything I could try to do proactively would make things worse, one way or another."</p><p>"Not everything backfires." Daisy poked his arm. "You stopped the Unknowing. Got us out of the Buried. If Elias can find a way to trap us here, we can find a way to escape."</p><p>"Would he really let us leave? Even if we managed to quit, would our enemies leave it at that? The Lightless Flame came after Gertrude for revenge, and she held her ground, but she - she had to fight her whole life. Until she died. A-and there are so many fates worse than death. We've been there. We could end up there again. If not the Buried, then s-something else. The only way to guarantee a natural death is to... just die."</p><p>Daisy growled, and squeezed his arm. "I get it. You'd rather die than carry on this way. But it's too soon to give up. Let's figure out our options, so it doesn't come to that."</p><p>Jon looked up, stifling a weak laugh. "It's not even... Sometimes I think I <em>ought</em> to die. But I don't <em>want </em>to die. Not really. I hate the thought. I just hate other things more, and that's reason enough to try to do the right thing, when the opportunity arises. Still, if I think about never seeing Martin again, or not being here to help, if any of you need me - "</p><p>"Then be here, and help." Daisy extracted the tape from the recorder. "Don't bother with the rest of the tapes. I'll swap this out for another tomorrow, and listen with Basira."</p><p>"Sneaking into Peter's office on a weekday might be risky." </p><p>"I'll manage. Come on, you should call it a night."</p><p>Daisy helped him back to the cot in Document Storage. Once she'd left, he stared up at the ceiling, vision bleary with fatigue, and tried to grant himself a few minutes of wakeful rest, free of external influence.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>When Monday morning rolled around, Basira dragged Jon up to the library to help research a series of disappearances in the 70's. All signs pointed back to the Lukas family.</p><p>"Martin ought to know," Jon muttered.</p><p>"I'll email him a notification when I add it to the database," Basira assured him.</p><p>They'd picked a table near the wall, to catch some sunlight through the windows. The library was one of the few parts of the building with working air con. None of the other staff or visitors looked terribly comfortable with Jon's presence; there was no denying that he looked like hell, and there were still plenty of rumours circulating. As usual, nobody openly made a fuss; people gravitated towards the other end of the library. </p><p>He fell asleep at the table before lunchtime. When he started crying in his sleep, a library assistant made frantic eye contact with Basira. She woke him up to escort him back to the basement. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>At 2am on Tuesday morning, Daisy swapped out the tape of Arthur's statement for another one from Peter's office.</p><p>Basira accompanied her to the tunnels to have a listen. </p><p>For several minutes, Tim and Sasha complained about their new jobs while stapling loose archival documents together. </p><p>"...<em>Well, tell you what. If you get eaten alive by improperly filed statements, me and Martin will avenge you,</em>" Tim eventually offered.</p><p>"<em>Well, aren’t you sweet.</em>"</p><p>"<em>I mean it! We’ll burn this place to the ground, it’ll be all like, Sasha! Sashaaaa!</em>"</p><p>"<em>And what about Jon?</em>"</p><p>"<em>Well, given the incoherence of this statement, I find it hard to believe it ever occurred.</em>" Tim's impression of Jon earned him a laugh. "<em>In fact, based on the evidence, I find it highly unlikely that Sasha ever even existed at all.</em>"</p><p>"<em>No. You took it too far! I’m unforgettable!</em>"</p><p>"<em>Alright. He fires you because of all the drugs and the wild orgies on Archive property.</em>"</p><p>"<em>Yeah, that’s fair. Now, get back to work</em>," Sasha told him, still laughing.</p><p>"<em>Yes, ma’am! See? Told you you’d make a good boss</em>."</p><p>A click marked the end of the recording. The blank portion of the tape continued playing quietly.</p><p>Basira stared at the wall, letting the silence linger, until Daisy took a hesitant step in her direction.</p><p>"Think that's it?" Daisy asked, nodding at the recorder.</p><p>Basira shrugged. "Why did Elias bother keeping hold of that?" </p><p>"Maybe he was trying to hide tapes of her voice, until Jon figured out her disappearance." </p><p>"Which he did. Last February."</p><p>"Or delay the realisation that the recorders were turning themselves on." Daisy offered her a half-smile. "Or he didn't want Jon knowing that those two had hooked up."</p><p>Basira rolled her eyes. "Does it ever seem to you that the harder we try to make things work, the more thoroughly the universe makes a joke of our efforts?"</p><p>"...Sometimes."</p><p>"And then the moment we get complacent, it's time for a kick in the teeth."</p><p>"Guess we'd better steel ourselves for a bad day," Daisy half-joked, her expression more of a grimace than a smile.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They let Jon sleep in on Tuesday morning, and ordered takeaway pizza for lunch. Melanie grabbed a slice before heading out to meet Georgie. </p><p>Jon woke up in time to try a few bites, but he zoned out before finishing his slice. When his attention snapped back to his surroundings, he excused himself to the restroom to throw up. Daisy waited in the doorway, making sure nobody else stumbled across him. She didn't ask what he'd seen.</p><p>Melanie came back from lunch with a faint smile on her face, which shifted into a determinedly neutral expression when she started processing the latest batch of new statements from Research with Daisy. </p><p>Jon agreed to help Basira make an afternoon's worth of progress with the old statements in Document Storage. Within an hour, they found one worth investigating in depth, a statement on a cannabis factory fire that had made headlines a few years ago, and had recently been requested for cross-referencing by several of the student researchers upstairs. Uncovering its location in a mis-dated folder was good news, even though it wasn't one of the genuinely supernatural statements. Some of their academic donors weren't capable of making that distinction.</p><p>They headed up to the library together, and monopolised the same table as yesterday. Jon flicked through a biography on the self-proclaimed new age mystic who'd owned the factory, while Basira looked up old headlines on her laptop. </p><p>"In some parts of the world, they prescribe cannabis for chronic nausea," Basira told Jon, keeping it deadpan.</p><p>Jon almost smiled. "...I think I'll manage without."</p><p>They'd been working quietly for another twenty minutes when Jon jumped to his feet and grabbed his phone. </p><p>"Jon, what...?"</p><p>He ignored her as he placed a call. </p><p>"Ambulance service." While the call was being connected, he slid down to sit on the floor, leaning against the table leg. "...J-Jess Tyrell has overdosed on painkillers. H-her address is Flat B, 6 Bonny Street, Camden Town, NW1 9PG. Ibuprofen, s-several packs. I don't know, I'm not there with her, we were talking over a video call, I couldn't talk her out of it, s-so I hung up to call... They're on their way? Right." </p><p>Jon hung up, dropped his phone, and buried his head in his hands.</p><p>Basira picked up his phone, and hauled him upright by his arm. "Tunnels. Now."</p><p>He nodded, and followed her back to the Archives. They grabbed a couple of torches and headed through the trapdoor without running into the others. She led him through several twists and turns of the tunnels, and stopped once they'd taken the stairs down to the second level. </p><p>When she turned back to Jon, he looked as shaken as she'd ever seen him. As the silence stretched on, he met her gaze, then studied the wall to her left.</p><p>"...What do you want me to say?" Jon asked, barely above a whisper.</p><p>"Is she alive?"</p><p>"Hopefully? I don't know, I... I haven't been able to see her since she passed out. Maybe I would if I was unconscious too, but I - I'm not. I won't..."</p><p>"Yeah, don't inflict any trauma nightmares on her right now, thanks."</p><p>Jon flinched at her words. She turned to pace down the tunnel. When she crossed her arms and turned back, he hadn't moved.</p><p>"You're a good liar, when you want to be," Basira observed, trying to stay immersed in an icy sense of clarity.</p><p>"If I'd told the truth, they'd have dismissed it as a hoax call," Jon explained, an edge of frustration creeping into his tone until he stopped to think, and apparently realised what she was getting at. "I - I haven't lied to <em>you</em> about anything important, I swear. Not since the, uh, intervention."</p><p>"Right. Not in the last few days." </p><p>Her scathing tone had the intended effect. He lowered his voice when he spoke again.</p><p>"I'm doing all I can now."</p><p>"So. When she wakes up, if she wakes up, will she see you lurking by her hospital bed? Even if you're right here?"</p><p>"P-probably? Seeing people when they're scared, a-after a statement, it's still not something I can control. H-her state of mind, I suppose it's likely, unless the tunnels interfere. I don't find myself <em>knowing </em>as many things, down here, and it's far harder to see anything deliberately. I, I could stay in the tunnels for a while - "</p><p>"Do you still dream, if you sleep in the tunnels?"</p><p>Jon took a deep breath before replying. "I've tried that a couple of times, a-and yes. If it blocked out that much, I'd sleep here all the time."</p><p>"How likely do you think it is that she'll recover, if you're the one who drove her to this, and you still can't stop?"</p><p>"I don't know," Jon replied quietly. "I know I've been sleeping more than usual, since the dark sun, and I h-hoped that once I'd recovered, I could go back to sleeping just a few hours every couple of days, at odd times, and see less of everyone again. I - I've been worried, more so than usual, about some of them, who've been... looking worse, while things have been worse. Things should get a little better again, once I'm past this... convalescence. But I suppose she had no reason to guess that things would get better."</p><p>Basira took a minute to weigh up his answer. </p><p>Jon broke the silence by rambling again. </p><p>"I'm sorry, I know I've been more of a liability than a help lately. The dark sun would've been dangerous in and of itself, even without a ritual, if anyone had stumbled across it, so we might have saved lives by eliminating that risk? I - I want to think it wasn't pointless. But you're right, I shouldn't let myself turn into any more of a monster, if I can help it. Especially since we don't entirely know what Elias wants me to become, or why. And we have to deal with what's happening now, if there's anything we can do. </p><p>M-maybe we could search Artefact Storage for anything that might help? There are, uh... Leitner had a book that hid him from supernatural observation, when I met him in the tunnels, and he said it vanishes the reader entirely if they read it all. I don't know where it is now, but I assume Elias took it, s-so it might be in the safe in his office that I haven't been able to get into. We could see if you or Daisy can crack the safe, and search Artefact Storage, in case we find anything that might help curb Beholding's effects, make things more manageable from now on? Experimenting with Leitners can be dangerous, but clearly so is, uh - "</p><p>"Sure." Basira kept her voice carefully neutral. "Let's go to Artefact Storage."</p><p>Jon stood frozen to the spot, staring wide-eyed at her, for several long moments. Perhaps, on some level, he didn't believe that she was willing to take that risk. To mess around with Leitners, the books with a body count, just so that he could be less of a liability, if he was lucky enough to find a way of nullifying Beholding in its own temple. </p><p>He hesitated, but then he gave her a stiff nod, and turned to the stairs.</p><p>She drew her gun. He might have heard or suspected something, since he started to turn back, but she shot him in the head before he could ask any questions.</p><p>She checked the time on her phone. 15:48. Then she approached the body, and held her torch against the entry and exit wounds, marking their size by cutting notches into the torch handle with her pocket knife. </p><p>By 16:00 it was undeniable that the holes in his skull were closing up.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Jon stared up at the Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that ever was. Had he come here via a dream? He couldn't recall, this time. Hunger tore his thoughts to fragments. He needed to see, to know, anything and everything, and he needed it to <em>stop</em>.</p><p>When it let him drift towards something else, something to experience, he strained to understand the noise. Voices? He knew those voices. Understanding crashed over him, and he bit his tongue to keep quiet as he woke up. Should he play dead? Or asleep? No, what was the difference? What was the point? </p><p>He opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was dark, but there was a light nearby. Somewhere in the tunnels? He was lying on the cot from Document Storage, and his wrists were handcuffed behind his back.</p><p>He tried to sit up. The light made his eyes water, but he could see Daisy and Basira's silhouettes by the door. A room in the tunnels? Why was Daisy here? Why was he restrained, if Daisy was here?</p><p>
  
</p><p>As he blinked away tears, Daisy walked over, her fists clenched. He leaned away, one shoulder hitting the wall. She stopped beside the cot. </p><p>"Figured you'd wake up today, the rate you've been healing." She looked him over, and he couldn't read her expression, half obscured by shadows.</p><p>He turned back to Basira. She hadn't said anything to him. Not since... This certainly wasn't Artefact Storage.</p><p>"You shot me." </p><p>"Yep."</p><p>"A-are you going to do it again?"</p><p>"Not really a permanent solution, is it?" Basira replied cryptically.</p><p>"What? What does that - "</p><p>"It's been a few days," Basira interrupted. "Melanie says Georgie's nightmares have stopped. She asked us whether we'd killed you. I told her yes, we had. Simplest answer. Close enough to the truth."</p><p>"We were going to lose you either way," Daisy added, a quiet tension in her voice. "You know I'd rather die than become a monster again. I know you're the same, if you're still in your right mind. But you're out of time, and you haven't accepted that those are the only two choices left. If you decide you can live with what Beholding's doing to you, what you've done for it, then you've lost yourself. If not... Best I can do for you either way is to help you die human. Or as human as can be."</p><p>"Daisy..." </p><p>She reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. He flinched back uselessly, and looked down to see dried blood flaking off his clothes.</p><p>"I know you've been trying," Daisy told him. "But you don't have the nerve for a hunger strike."</p><p>"I - I do. I've stopped. For real. Can't we try to figure out something else, please?" Jon couldn't help but ask, even knowing that it was hopeless.</p><p>Her hand tightened on his shoulder. "As your friend, I'm taking the decision out of your hands. Just as I'd ask you to kill me, if I was on the verge of falling to the Hunt."</p><p>"But you haven't, a-and I haven't. I thought we were going to resist together." His gaze flicked back to Basira. He could almost see her face, now that his eyes were adjusting. Was that an electric lantern behind her? "I h-haven't given up, so please don't give up on me. I know I've made mistakes, but I, I'm trying my best..."</p><p>"Your best isn't good enough." Basira still sounded certain.</p><p>"Th-this is about what happened on Tuesday. I didn't do anything wrong <em>that day</em>, did I? If I hadn't called for help, for her, you'd never have known. D-did she make it...?"</p><p>Basira nodded. "Yeah. I did some follow up. They saved her, and transferred her to the psych ward. That much is routine. They'll probably send her home soon."</p><p>"...Oh. Good."</p><p>"Have any of the others died?" Basira asked.</p><p>Jon braced himself, and gave her an honest answer. "Phil Carrington. The one with the maggots. They'd already half consumed him, n-nothing could have killed them without killing him too. I, I don't think I necessarily made any difference, even to the timing."</p><p>"But you watched."</p><p>"I couldn't <em>not</em>." Jon could feel frustration creeping into his voice, alongside all the terror and misery. </p><p>Basira shared a look with Daisy, over his head.</p><p>"But I <em>could </em>do more for... for her, so I <em>did</em>," Jon added. "A-and if I hadn't, this wouldn't be happening. You're punishing me for doing the right thing."</p><p>Basira finally stepped into the room, and came to stand next to Daisy. "We're giving you another opportunity to do the right thing."</p><p>"What? By eating a bullet, as many times as it takes?" Jon stared up at them, desperately trying to think, to come up with an instant solution. "We s-said that starving might work, might change me back, and I, if there's anything we can find to h-help everyone in the meantime, we haven't looked, in Artefact Storage, and then I can starve, if that's what it takes. I've been making that choice, since I realised it was mine to make, and I know it hasn't been all that long, but you don't know how hard I've been trying. Not just because you've been looking over my shoulder. Even the things you don't see. Back in the library, I - I could've <em>fed </em>by letting her die."</p><p>"And that was a tough choice?" Basira didn't sound remotely impressed. </p><p>"N-no. An easy choice, not even a choice, but... difficult consequences..." Jon shook his head, struggling for words. </p><p>Basira sighed, heading further into the room. Jon twisted round to see her open a crate by the back wall. His breath hitched when she pulled out a sword.</p><p>"Are you done saying goodbye?" Basira asked Daisy.</p><p>"Almost," Daisy told her. She leaned in close to Jon, staring into his eyes. "Please try to understand. It might help you, with whatever comes next."</p><p>Jon stared back, struck by a memory of her words in the coffin. The confession she'd choked out, clutching his hand. "<em>Y-you know what I thought, when I woke up here? I thought this was hell. I wa- I was dead, and I was in hell. And I - I knew I deserved it.</em>"</p><p>He opened his mouth, not even sure what he was going to say, but she wrapped her hands around his head, holding his jaw closed. </p><p>"No more questions," Daisy told him.</p><p>Basira joined them again, sword in hand. "Still think this'll incapacitate him?"</p><p>"Worked for Dekker, didn't it?" Daisy replied. "Those barbeque skewers."</p><p>Jon tried to shake his head, but Daisy's grip didn't allow him much movement. </p><p>"Hey." Daisy met his gaze again. "Better than the coffin, right?"</p><p>Jon took another panicked breath, and tried to nod.</p><p>Daisy shoved him down against the cot. When Basira lifted the sword, he closed his eyes, for an instant, but in the end he couldn't help but watch.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>At four in the morning on Saturday 30th June, once the tunnels had been secured, Daisy snuck up to Peter's office, and paused to listen outside the door.</p><p>Since Tuesday, she'd listened to a couple more of Gertrude's statements. Nothing immediately relevant. But this time, she could hear footsteps inside the office. </p><p>The footsteps paused on the near side of the room. Papers were shuffled. Someone sighed. Martin.</p><p>Daisy left silently. Martin didn't need to know.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Deathless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Melanie swept out of the Archives at five on the dot, without a word to either of the others.</p><p>Basira sighed and headed over to Melanie's desk to shut down her work laptop. She'd left a half-finished game of minesweeper up on screen.</p><p>"Still going strong with that work boycott," Daisy observed. </p><p>"Yeah. I get it, but..." Basira glanced at the ceiling. "It's been more than a week since Jon was... last seen in the library. Melanie's doing nothing but waste time. Do you think Peter's going to do anything? At all? Or does he really not care?"</p><p>"Maybe he knows better than to show his face around here," Daisy suggested, a growl underlining her words.</p><p>"That'd be too convenient." </p><p>"Come on. Let's do the rounds." Daisy grabbed a torch from her desk drawer.</p><p>Basira locked the door to the Archives, then unlocked the trapdoor to the tunnels. </p><p>There wasn't a trace of blood left along their route to hint at the violence the tunnels had seen over the years. </p><p>When they reached a branching path on the second level, they took the smaller passage with crumbling walls, and followed it round a corner to reach a door with no handle. Daisy prised it open, standing to one side of the pressure pad hidden beneath a scattering of dirt, then headed inside, stepping over a tripwire on her way to the crate at the far end of the room. A small box by the door held the explosives that were set to detonate if either trap was triggered. </p><p>Inside the crate, nothing had changed. One end of the sword emerged from the front of Jon's head, and the other was wedged securely in the wooden base of the crate. She'd closed his eyes the day they'd left him here, and he clearly hadn't made any progress towards opening them again. </p><p>Daisy slammed the lid shut, and rejoined Basira in the passage.</p><p>"No change," Daisy told her. "If Beholding's going to punish him, hasn't started yet."</p><p>"Mm." Basira closed the door carefully, then led the way back to the Institute.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>At midnight, Daisy slipped into Peter's office. This time, she took the entire box of tapes. </p><p>When she set the box down by their mattress, near the trapdoor to the tunnels, Basira set aside her latest book and gave her a questioning look.</p><p>"Might as well grab all of them," Daisy explained. "If Peter doesn't care when his Head Archivist goes missing, he won't care about Elias's old tapes and files."</p><p>"Hopefully not." Basira thought for a second, then went to fetch her keys. "We should keep them in the tunnels. Make sure Elias doesn't know where they are."</p><p>"Jon's room?"</p><p>"If you like."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>At quarter past three in the morning, Daisy set aside a tape about a pile of festering meat in the woods near Manchester, placed another cassette in the recorder, and pressed play. </p><p>"<em>Careful!</em>" Martin's voice hissed.</p><p>Tim hushed him. A door creaked open.</p><p>"<em>Surprise!</em>" Tim, Sasha, and Martin's voices rang out in unison. Someone blew a party horn.</p><p>"<em>Jesus!</em>" Jon sounded badly startled. </p><p>"<em>Happy birthday, boss.</em>" Tim's voice again.</p><p>"<em>Happy... Oh, are you okay?</em>" Sasha asked, laughing a bit.</p><p>"<em>No, I... Christ, one second.</em>"</p><p>"<em>Sorry, sorry. Tim wanted to surprise you,</em>" Martin explained, "<em>and</em> - "</p><p>"<em>Snitch</em>," Tim teased.</p><p>"<em>No, no, it’s fine, thank you. Just a shock,</em>" Jon assured them.</p><p>"<em>Well, that’s the idea,</em>" Tim told him, thoroughly unrepentant.</p><p>Daisy pressed pause. She blinked hard, and spent a few seconds focusing on her breathing. Listening to the quiet.</p><p>"We should call it a night," Basira suggested gently. She'd sat down by the opposite wall three hours ago, and hardly moved since.</p><p>"I - I don't know. There could be something..." Daisy shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She could feel the Watcher's presence. It hated them all. But it had always hated them.</p><p>"Look, Melanie had a point. We're servants of the Eye," Basira reminded her. "If we obsess over the tapes, like Jon did... At best, it'll drain us. At worst, it'll change us, like it changed him."</p><p>"I'm not going to obsess. This stuff.. It makes sense to listen. Find out if there's anything that could help him. Not much chance, I know, but..." </p><p>"Then pace yourself. He wouldn't want you to make the same mistakes. You're already fighting the Hunt, and I... I can't lose you," Basira told her. "And we've got work tomorrow. We need to keep up with the new statements, to stay alert to any developing threats. To help anyone who can still be helped. Why don't we try to get through two of these tapes each day? One in the morning, one in the evening. See how that goes, and then maybe we can reconsider the schedule. But you can't do this for hours at a time. Trust me, I can see what it's doing to you."</p><p>"...Yeah. Alright. So long as we get through them. Elias... the stuff he picked out... Can't see the sense in all of it. But that's suspicious."</p><p>"Definitely suspicious. No argument there."</p><p>Basira helped her pack the scattered tapes back into the box. They left it on top of Jon's crate, then headed back to the basement. </p><p>Daisy spent a few hours pretending to sleep. She was pretty sure Basira was lying awake too. Neither of them bothered to talk until their alarm rang at six. TGI Friday, indeed.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Um, excuse me, sir!" Martin hurried into Peter's office, where a tiny old man was poking at the papers on the desk. "Sorry, you can’t actually be here."</p><p>"Oh, not to worry! I seem to be doing alright so far," the stranger assured him.</p><p>"No, I mean, this area is actually off limits to the public, so - "</p><p>"And quite right too! Goodness, the things they could learn here... Turn your hair white, eh?" The old man laughed to himself. "Best to keep them out, I say."</p><p>"…Who are you? Did Peter send you?"</p><p>"You must be Martin. Goodness, he was not exaggerating..."</p><p>"What’s that supposed to mean?"</p><p>"Oh come now, don’t be like that. Let’s start over," the old man suggested, finally giving Martin his full attention. "Simon. Simon Fairchild. Peter asked me to look in on you. He even made the request in person, which is quite rare for him, as I'm sure you can imagine. Some sort of Institute business brought him out to Stavanger. We took the chance to share a meal and a bottle of wine from his family's cellar. He doesn't usually have it in him to network that way, so I thought to myself, if he's under the impression that this matter is actually important, then I might as well humour him and swing by London a little sooner than I'd intended to. I must admit, I was curious to meet you. And I imagine you're keen to hear the answers to all your nagging questions..."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Once Simon Fairchild had left the building, and the smell of ozone had started to dissipate from the office, Martin went to fetch the tape recorder that he'd heard rolling during their conversation. </p><p>"Heard all that, did you?" Martin lifted it from its shelf and set it on the desk before taking a seat. "Just as well. I think I have my answers, like Peter promised. Kind of funny, in a way. I don't think Peter knows his friends very well. I don't think he knows me very well, either...</p><p>Anyway, I, I know what I need to do. I need to confirm things, and see this through. And if you're hearing this, Jon... whatever happens, I want you to know that I knew what I was doing. And I hope you're staying safe."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>On Wednesday morning, Daisy and Basira made their routine trip through the tunnels. When they opened the crate, it was empty.</p><p>No Jon. No sword. No handcuffs or tracker. Entirely empty. </p><p>The traps were undisturbed. The box of tapes had been sitting on the crate when they arrived, exactly where they always left it. They'd checked Basira's phone over breakfast, and there'd been no signal from the tracker, as usual.</p><p>"He didn't just... fade, did he?" Basira asked. "You said you thought it'd take longer..."</p><p>"I... I don't know?" Daisy stared at the dried blood stain at the base of the crate. "Either something took him, or Beholding stopped keeping him alive, a-and there's nothing left? Or it pulled him into one of those twisted realities, or it changed him into s-something unrecognisable. The statements we've read, the things that can go wrong, it's not always predictable..."</p><p>"If he's alive, he'll have to come back to the Institute sooner or later, right? If not..." Basira hesitated.</p><p>"If not, th-that's it. Nothing we can do." Daisy busied herself with dismantling the traps. "I ought to hope he's dead, for his sake as much as anything else..."</p><p>"We should find another hiding place for the tapes."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>July slipped through everyone's fingers. Martin spent the last Friday of the month looking into one of Dekker's statements. </p><p>"...Of course, we didn’t have a good explanation for what happened to Doctor Anastos, so we lost our jobs pretty much immediately, but you know what? That’s fine. I’m done with the jungle. There’s something in there and I don’t know which scares me more. The thought that it’s more than just the things we left behind? Or that that’s all it is, and we can’t escape the ruins of our own future.</p><p>Statement ends. There’s, erm, a note here as well. Looks like Gertrude’s handwriting? Start of a letter to Dekker, thanking him for sending Judith through, although it doesn’t look like it was ever finished or sent. I assume this is another one he was trying to use to prove the Extinction? It certainly has something in it, mankind’s trash giving rise to something terrible. Then again, fear of the other, inanimate humanoid figures, that’s all very Stranger isn’t it? It’s never simple..."</p><p>A noise from the corridor drew Martin's attention, and he stepped out to investigate. A woman was standing around by the stairs.</p><p>"Excuse me! Excuse me, this area is off-limits to the public," Martin told her.</p><p>"Sorry?" She blinked at him, looking lost in thought.</p><p>"You can’t be here. It’s not allowed."</p><p>"Oh, sorry, um, Melanie told me to wait for her here," she explained, looking him over.</p><p>"Oh, you - you’re here for Melanie?"</p><p>"Yeah. Georgie."</p><p>"I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. Uh, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere..."</p><p>"You must be Martin." Georgie's expression turned distant again. Wistful.</p><p>"Yeah. Has Melanie been talking about me?" Martin asked, mildly confused. </p><p>"Oh, um… Jon used to go on about you a lot," Georgie told him. "I guess this must be a difficult time for you too."</p><p>"What? Why? Jon... did he say something...?"</p><p>"You are Martin, right? Martin Blackwood?" Georgie checked, looking him over again.</p><p>"Yeah, that's me. Sorry, I didn't realise Melanie-Georgie and Jon-Georgie were the same person," Martin clarified. "So, you and Jon... uh, have you been in touch lately? Wh-why are you, uh, looking at me that way...?"</p><p>"Did no-one tell you?" Georgie asked, sounding as confused as Martin felt.</p><p>"Tell me what? What, is it about Jon, or, or Melanie, or...? Are they okay?"</p><p>"Jon's been dead for a month."</p><p>The words washed over him without sinking in. He blinked. Georgie was still there. He hadn't heard wrong.</p><p>"...We must not be talking about the same Jon after all. Jon Sims? He works here," Martin explained.</p><p>"Yeah, he... he's dead. I can't believe no-one told you."</p><p>Martin swayed on his feet, and caught himself against the wall.</p><p>"I'm sorry. You should probably talk to your colleagues. Melanie heard it from them. Though I think I already knew. He passed away on the 26th of June. A month yesterday."</p><p>"No. No, no, he can't have." Martin slid to the floor as the pieces connected. Four days after he'd left the complaint on Daisy's desk. They'd killed him. Jess had only asked them to talk to him, and they'd killed him.</p><p>"I'll go tell your receptionist that you're not feeling well."</p><p>Once Georgie's footsteps had faded, Martin dragged himself to his feet. He drifted unseen through the building, and let himself into the Archives. </p><p>When he slammed the door, wrenching himself back into reality, Daisy and Basira looked up from their work. </p><p>"...Jon." Martin had meant to say more. He was sure he'd meant to say more. But they seemed to understand.</p><p>"Did Peter finally tell you?" Basira asked. What? <em>What?</em></p><p>"You." Martin shook his head. "You... no. Georgie. She said. Y-you - "</p><p>"I notice you're not asking why," Basira observed.</p><p>Martin heard himself snarl. </p><p>"Hey. Keep it together," Daisy warned him. "You said it yourself, right? On that tape. He was already gone."</p><p>Martin blinked. They didn't care. This wasn't helping. He couldn't be here anymore.</p><p>He walked back to Peter's office, fog curling around his feet. Then he sat at the desk, and let the chill humidity fill his lungs.</p><p>Peter fetched him from Forsaken on Monday morning. </p><p>"Ah, there you are, Martin. How was your weekend?" Peter asked cheerily, leaning on the edge of the desk.</p><p>"Go away."</p><p>"Now, that's no way to speak to your boss, is it?"</p><p>"I don't care." Martin's hands tightened on the arms of the chair, then fell limp again. Condensation dripped from his fingers. "Go away."</p><p>"Forgive me for being confused, but this is my office, Martin. Where do you expect me to go?"</p><p>"Leave me alone." </p><p>"I applaud the sentiment, I really do, but I think I need to remind you that you work for me, Martin. You can enjoy Forsaken's embrace during evenings and weekends."</p><p>Martin closed his eyes. Numbing fog drifted past his eyelids.</p><p>Peter's hand landed on his shoulder. The chill receded from the air. </p><p>When Martin opened his eyes, the office was back to normal. The ache in his chest kicked up a notch. When Peter let go, Martin curled in on himself, trying to go back.</p><p>"No need to fuss. You'll have plenty of time to yourself, soon enough. But we've got a few things to do in the meantime, haven't we?"</p><p>"No." Martin rested his head on the desk. Peter pulled out a damp sheet of paper from beneath his hair.</p><p>"Martin. You're making excellent progress. I'm honestly impressed, and quite proud of you. But if you don't hold up your end of the deal, I can bar you from ever being able to slip into our god's embrace again." </p><p>"What? No, please..." Martin sat bolt upright, staring up at Peter.</p><p>"I'm sure it won't come to that. I'll be out today, making a few preparations, but I dare say we can put our plan into action tomorrow. How does that sound?"</p><p>"Peter...?" Martin tried to process the question. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"You'll see soon enough. Why don't you check your emails in the meantime? There always seems to be plenty of busywork to be done around here."</p><p>Peter placed Martin's laptop in front of him. </p><p>Martin absently dried his hands on Peter's shirt, then switched on the computer. </p><p>"Right, that's... it..." Peter stepped back from the desk. "I'll leave you to it, shall I?"</p><p>Martin opened his emails. </p><p>The library wanted clarification on their budget for next month. They'd highlighted bits of a spreadsheet. He didn't care. </p><p>He was meant to answer his emails. Just busywork, until tomorrow. He clicked reply, typed 'no', and clicked send.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Are you still betting on Jon?" Peter checked.</p><p>"Yes." Elias sounded insufferably smug, even over the phone. "Whatever doesn't kill him..."</p><p>"Then you won't object to providing me with a map for tomorrow."</p><p>"That's perfectly fine."</p><p>"You're in a hurry to die, aren't you?"</p><p>"You're in a hurry to lose. It doesn't matter how long it takes Jon to find out. He'll follow Martin into the Lonely, sooner or later."</p><p>"So you say. I'm not convinced we'll ever see him again, but fortunately, that's not my problem."</p><p>"Indeed. I'll see you soon."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>On Tuesday morning, Daisy picked up the statement of Eric Delano, recorded 21st July 2008. Regarding his life, Mary Keay, and the Archives. Audio recording by Gertrude Robinson. </p><p>When the tape finished playing, she met Basira's eyes across the room.</p><p>"...<em>Fuck</em>."</p><p>They found Melanie at her desk, and told her everything.</p><p>"...What? <em>What?</em> You - let me get this straight. We can quit. Jon might be alive. And you lost him?" Melanie asked, thoroughly incredulous.</p><p>"Yeah... So if you see him around - I mean, if you decide to keep your eyes..." </p><p>Daisy trailed off as Melanie burst into humourless laughter.</p><p>"Fuck, this is... this..."</p><p>"Think it over," Basira advised.</p><p>"I... okay...? Uh, so. I guess you've been searching the tunnels? Like, for Jon, and whatever might have taken him?" Melanie guessed.</p><p>"Yeah. No luck so far," Basira confirmed.</p><p>"Have you asked Helen?"</p><p>"Haven't seen her," Daisy replied. "And yeah, that's suspicious." </p><p>"At this point, she's at the top of our list," Basira added.</p><p>"Right. Uh, we could look again? Helen's never avoided me," Melanie told them. "I haven't seen her lately, but I haven't been looking."</p><p>Basira shrugged. "Worth a shot."</p><p>They spotted Helen's door within five minutes of entering the tunnels. Melanie knocked, and the door opened from inside. </p><p>"Hello, Melanie. It's been a while." Helen's gaze slid across the group. Her smile was as sharp and twisted as ever. "I see you brought friends, but I can't say I'm glad to see them."</p><p>"We're looking for Jon," Basira explained. "Got good news for him."</p><p>"Oh? And what might that news be?" Helen asked, in a tone that suggested she might already know.</p><p>"We found a way to quit the Institute," Daisy announced. "If he's in any shape to go through with it, he can escape Beholding. Live a normal life again."</p><p>"Do you think that's what he wants?" Helen sounded dubious.</p><p>"Yes." Daisy took a step forward, squinting at the Distortion's unreal corridors. "Is he with you?"</p><p>"I think you'd better come in." Helen held the door open for them.</p><p>The three of them stepped inside, and walked the twisting path that Helen guided them down.</p><p>"Have you been sheltering him?" Melanie asked.</p><p>"You could say that." Helen pressed a sharp finger to her own lips, half-hiding a smile at some sort of private joke. A set of spiralling bangles twisted round the sleeve of her neon-pink jacket. Each colour in this place clashed with the others, and sometimes with itself.</p><p>"Is he here or not?" Basira snapped.</p><p>"See for yourselves." Helen waved them around a corner into another twisted corridor. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Basira's sword was embedded in the far wall. It didn't appear to have been removed from Jon's head. A bright green coat had been thrown over his face. His hands hung loose at his sides. The tracker was gone, and his feet dangled a few inches above the floor.</p><p>Melanie was the first to break the silence. "...What the fuck, Helen?" </p><p>Basira strode over and freed the sword, placing her foot on the wall for leverage. She caught Jon and lowered him to the ground, leaving him entangled with the fabric. Daisy placed herself between Jon and Helen, hackles raised. </p><p>Helen wandered over from the opposite direction and picked up her coat. She pulled it on, letting the orange fabric settle into place.</p><p>Melanie blinked, doubting her senses. She knew what the Distortion was like, but still...</p><p>"Seriously?" Melanie couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this angry. This exact level of anger. Deeply furious, but not with the entire world. "You... you've been using him as a coat stand?"</p><p>"He hasn't been feeding his god," Helen reminded them. "I decided to offer him my hospitality. Leaving him in the tunnels... I doubt it would have gone well for him. In my corridors, he's far less likely to fade. Or to sprout eyes all over the place, and turn into a shambling horror. As fun as that might've been, I dare say it would've gotten old quite quickly."</p><p>"If you were protecting him, why didn't you let him wake up?" Basira asked.</p><p>"And let him run back to the Institute? He'd have gotten into the same fight all over again." Helen rolled her eyes. It was hard to tell when the movement started and ended. "No, I thought it best to wait until things had blown over. Besides, he looked good that way, didn't he?"</p><p>"Surely he'd have had more sense than to come back." Even as she spoke, Basira frowned, asking herself whether Jon would've done what anyone else would've done in his shoes: either laid low, or if he'd felt too guilty, found a way to end things. He was still bound to the Archives, nobody would've been mailing him statements this time, and he wouldn't have stopped worrying about Martin... Shit. He probably would've come back. If he'd tried to sneak in, they'd have caught him.</p><p>Helen smiled as if she knew what Basira was thinking. "Oh, he might have fled. Found a few victims to sustain himself, until <em>Elias </em>dealt with your little mutiny and called him home. But no, I don't think he'd have had that much sense."</p><p>"We should bring him back," Daisy suggested, voice cracking around the edges. "Give him a few days to recover."</p><p>"He might be back on his feet sooner than you think, if you let him rest here," Helen informed them. "Time doesn't quite work as humans think it should, in my domain."</p><p>"We'd be keeping him away from the Eye for a bit longer..." Basira glanced at Daisy. "I'm happy to wait here."</p><p>Daisy brushed Jon's hair back from his forehead. The wound was closing up. "...Fine."</p><p>Basira turned to Melanie. "If you want to head back, we can watch over him."</p><p>"No. No, I'm not leaving." Melanie glared at the others, feeling her hands curl into fists, nails digging into her palms. "You told me he was dead, Basira. You lied to me. I - I hated him, but I still mourned him. And Georgie, sh-she's... Y-you don't know what it's been like, this last month. She lived with him for years, she loved him, and I was trapped at the place that had killed him, a-and we couldn't even talk about it all, not really. It was too much. A-and you've been doing this research that's actually paid off, and you let me kill time without ever telling me the stakes. What happens if I leave now? How do you expect me to trust a word you say, when you come back? I'll stick around to see what happens next, thanks."</p><p>"...Alright." Basira gave her a sidelong look, and went to check on Daisy.</p><p>Melanie hissed through her teeth, and silently counted to ten. Her mind looped through seven at least a few times, but she wasn't sure how many. Helen laughed, and the nearby doors flickered in and out of nonexistence. </p><p>Nothing to do but wait it out.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Peter led the way through the tunnels. When they reached a dead end, he flicked open a book and spent a few seconds reading quietly. Martin waited by his side without questioning him.</p><p>The wall ahead collapsed into the floor. The monster that wasn't Sasha screamed and gasped, scraping its sharp extremities along every surface as it escaped its confinement. </p><p>"So you finally decided to let me out, Jon? Jooooon? Who’s there?"</p><p>Martin stared in distant horror, his thoughts and his breath muffled by a layer of clinging fog.</p><p>"Who let me out? Don’t be shy. I just want to say thank you. ...Alright, have it your way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some unfinished business."</p><p>The not-Sasha scuttled away down the tunnel.</p><p>Martin stood frozen to the spot.</p><p>"Come along, now," Peter prompted him. "I've bought us some time, but we'd best get moving."</p><p>"That was..." Martin's words escaped with his breath. Why was he bothering to tell Peter what he already knew?</p><p>"Something to keep the others too busy to follow us. They’ll be fine. Probably. You could still go help them, if you'd like?"</p><p>Martin wondered whether Daisy and Basira could kill it. They knew how to kill monsters, didn't they? </p><p>If it replaced one of them, how long would it take the other to notice? A month, maybe? Or longer? Would they wish someone had told them?</p><p>He had to settle things with Peter. He couldn't go back. The others would have to fight this battle.</p><p>His chest hurt as he followed Peter deeper into the tunnels.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Still think it's this way?" Julia checked, marking another arrow on the tunnel wall with chalk.</p><p>"Only one way to find out," Trevor replied cheerfully. </p><p>The monster that had haunted their dreams was gone. If they wanted a decent shot at getting back their monster manual, they'd need to search Jon's belongings before the Institute cleared out his office. </p><p>Odd, inhuman noises echoed from up ahead. An eager grin spread across Julia's face. Time to hunt.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>When the tunnel opened up into a large underground space, Peter used the Leitner to seal off the path behind them.</p><p>The walls were lined with empty cells. A watchtower stood at the center, overlooking everything.</p><p>"What is this place...?" Martin wondered aloud. </p><p>"The panopticon of Millbank prison," Peter answered. "Not quite as Smirke originally conceived it, of course. Jonah Magnus made certain... adjustments."</p><p>They started climbing the metal stairs to the top of the tower. </p><p>"Mind your step," Peter warned him. "This comes from an era before safety rails."</p><p>Martin thought about telling him that he wasn't clumsy enough to trip. He didn't actually bother talking. </p><p>When they reached the observation room, they found an eyeless body slumped in a chair. </p><p>Okay, then.</p><p>"From this tower, you can see everything. Or at least, you will be able to, once you dispose of the current occupant. Then you can use the powers of this place to learn about the Extinction. What it’s doing, where it’s manifesting... With that information, we can stop it in its tracks," Peter explained.</p><p>Martin nodded absently, studying the body. It looked a bit like the old photos of Jonah Magnus on the Institute's website. But far more old and withered. And missing the eyes. Weird.</p><p>"That's Jonah Magnus!" Peter announced. "His body at least. Sitting here, watching. Binding it all together, growing ever older. If you want to take his place, well..."</p><p>Peter pressed a knife into Martin's hand.</p><p>Martin stared at the knife. "Thank you...?"</p><p>"Go ahead. Kill him, and claim his place," Peter prompted him.</p><p>Martin squinted at Jonah. "Kill him?"</p><p>"Yes! Now you're getting it." Peter sounded relieved. </p><p>Martin stepped closer to the body. "Where are his eyes?"</p><p>"Where do you think?" Peter asked, gesturing upwards.</p><p>Martin blinked as his thoughts coalesced. Jonah Magnus, in the ruins beneath the Magnus Institute. Watching everything, binding it all together. The all-seeing heart of the Institute. "...Elias?"</p><p>"Exactly!" Peter confirmed.</p><p>A nauseating surge of fury burned away the fog. "He's - this is Elias. H-he's been, what, jumping bodies? Trapping us, tormenting us, getting us killed one by one... He s-said that if we kill him, we die too. I can't do anything for you if I'm dead. Was he lying?"</p><p>"Probably? He does that a lot." Peter shrugged.</p><p>"I - I think Melanie was right. We should've tried to kill him from the start. If, if he was lying, we could've escaped, we could've survived. He n-never would've... we'd still..."</p><p>"Well, you can't change the past, but you can kill him now!"</p><p>Martin glared at Peter. As if he was any different. Another monster with a shady agenda. Peter's promise to protect the others, his insistence that Extinction was an imminent crisis - it was all bullshit, as Simon and the not-Sasha had made very clear. If he was going to avenge Jon...</p><p>The knife glinted in the torchlight as Martin lifted it to Jonah's chest. The blade slid between his ribs, nice and sharp. Again and again, just to make sure. Old blood dripped from the wound.</p><p>A blinding pain tore through Martin's mind, wrenching a gasp from his throat. As it faded, he felt the weight of Beholding's gaze as keenly as he ever had during a statement.</p><p>"Well done." Peter stepped up behind him. "Now - "</p><p>Martin pulled the knife from Jonah's chest, spun round, and tried to stab Peter.</p><p>The knife fell from his hand as Peter caught and twisted his arm.</p><p>Martin screamed and threw himself forwards, trying to tackle Peter. He wound up shoved to the floor instead. </p><p>Peter left the room while Martin was scrambling to his feet. </p><p>Martin dashed after him, but when he tried the door, it was locked.</p><p>"Peter!" The door rattled in its frame, but it didn't budge.</p><p>With a bitter laugh, Martin turned back to Jonah's corpse.</p><p>"Even if I catch up with Peter, I probably can't beat him. I've sort of lost the element of surprise, haven't I? But I've already avenged Jon. You'll never trap anyone else here. Never ruin their life, the way you ruined his. </p><p>Maybe I could leave through Forsaken, but I... If I go back there, I don't think I'll be able to make myself leave. Not without a reason. Maybe that'd be for the best..."</p><p>Martin wandered over to the chair. Jonah didn't offer an opinion. </p><p>"Did Peter really want me to look into the Extinction? I was sure that wasn't what this was really about, but... What else can I do here? Why else would he bring me here?"</p><p>Martin tilted the chair forwards, letting the corpse slide to the floor. He moved the chair closer to the nearest of the windows, and sat down. </p><p>"Maybe he wants other information too? Or was he just trying to get rid of you? I - I guess I'll see what I can find out, while I'm here. I can always die later."</p><p>He closed his eyes and focused. <em>What were Jonah and Peter planning?</em></p><p>A series of second hand memories flickered through his mind's eye. Millbank prison, full to bursting. Jonah's first rital. Mass death. Earthquake. The Institute. Host after host, screaming as their eyes were gouged out. Dead by the time they were replaced. Dreams of a ruined world.</p><p>As the onslaught faded, Martin vaguely felt himself hit the floor before he passed out.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Julia clutched her broken arm to her chest, panting as she stood over the monster's body. Trevor sliced off one of its elongated claws, and pocketed it as a trophy, wincing as the movements jostled the wound in his side. </p><p>"Let's get out of here," Julia gasped, searching out the last chalk arrow.</p><p>Trevor limped over to her side, favouring his right foot. No choice but to retreat, and try again another day.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Jon opened his eyes to a haze of impossible colours. He blinked, and the sight resolved itself into a ceiling. This time, he thought he recognised the colour, but he couldn't place its name. Was there any such thing?</p><p>He let his head roll to the side. Basira, Daisy, Melanie and Helen were all close by. Some of them were watching him. Helen said something that made his head hurt, and then they were all watching him. </p><p>"Jon...?" Daisy leaned closer.</p><p>He waited to see what would happen. None of this made any sense.</p><p>"Jon, listen to me. We've found a way to quit."</p><p>Basira didn't sound angry, this time. How long had it been? Had they quit? Had they come back for him? Why was he in the Distortion?</p><p>He couldn't quite bring himself to move. No more questions, they'd said. Quitting didn't mean asking questions. Did it? Would they tell him how?</p><p>"Eric Delano, one of Gertrude's assistants, managed to quit by blinding himself," Basira explained.</p><p>...Oh. Well, that was better than the alternative.</p><p>"Good news, right?" Daisy tried to smile. The expression faded as he watched. "Jon, talk to us."</p><p>"Y-yes?" Yes, it was good news. Was it also imminent news? He wanted to think. The walls were too bright. Martin wasn't here. For once, Jon was quite relieved that Martin wasn't here. Whatever Basira and Daisy had done, Martin hadn't been a part of it. Unless they'd blinded him already... Was he free? Was he hurt?</p><p>"Time to get him out of here," Basira announced. </p><p>Daisy held out her hand.</p><p>Jon didn't want to take her hand. But clearly, she expected it. He wanted all of this to stop, and give him a chance to think, before he risked doing anything the others didn't expect. He reached out. Daisy pulled him to his feet.</p><p>"Steady," Daisy muttered, draping his arm over her shoulders. </p><p>He bit his lip, and didn't let himself pull away. </p><p>Helen led them through the corridors. They'd be lost otherwise. An awful lot of people were lost. But she liked the four of them, didn't she?</p><p>A door opened into Jon's office. When they stepped through, the atmosphere felt unfamiliar. </p><p>The sense of an ever-present malevolent gaze had almost entirely lifted. </p><p>Jon stumbled over to his desk, and took a seat. Daisy let go of him, for now.</p><p>"Is it just me, or...?" Melanie stared around the room.</p><p>"Something's changed," Basira confirmed.</p><p>"Your <em>Elias </em>is no more. That's a shame. He was working on something fun," Helen told them. "Still, it wouldn't have been the same without Jon..."</p><p>"Elias is dead?" Melanie sounded like she could hardly believe it. </p><p>"Yes. I imagine you'd have suffered terribly, if you hadn't been inside me at the time," Helen cheerfully informed them, closing her door on those parting words.</p><p>"I... I... ugh, I still can't quit." Melanie was quick to test that out. "Or I guess I can, if I follow Eric's example."</p><p>"I - I should try first. I need to, anyway. S-so if I check whether it works, you, you'll know..." Jon trailed off, pressing his fingers into the surface of his desk. He was really here...</p><p>"Yeah, we'd have insisted on that anyway," Basira told him.</p><p>"Where's Martin?" Jon asked. </p><p>"Haven't seen him today," Basira replied. "Whatever happened while we were gone... He might have gotten dragged into it."</p><p>"We have to find him." Jon rose to his feet, finding himself slightly steadier than he'd been a few minutes ago. "He, he has to be okay. He needs to know."</p><p>"Let's search the building. We should stick together until we know what's going on," Basira suggested. Nobody argued.</p><p>The Archives were empty. The working day was continuing as normal throughout the rest of the Institute, but Martin was nowhere to be found. Nobody had seen him recently. </p><p>The library staff provided them with a couple of awls, when Melanie enquired about sharp objects.</p><p>Basira gave Jon back his phone. They both tried to call Martin, but the calls didn't connect. Jon texted him, and got an undelivered error message.</p><p>Eventually, Basira herded them into an empty ground-floor meeting room to talk.</p><p>"Jon. Can you <em>know </em>where Martin is? Or anything else that might help us, before you quit?"</p><p>"No. I don't have the energy. I - honestly, I can barely stay on my feet."</p><p>"We noticed," Daisy told him.</p><p>"That's it, then. You'd better go through with it, before you get any worse. 'Feed your god, or it'll feed on you', and all." Basira gestured for Melanie to pass him the awls.</p><p>"N-now? I, we haven't found Martin," Jon protested. "We should check the tunnels, someone should check his home..."</p><p>"We'll do all of that, don't worry," Basira assured him. "But the search will take time, so we need to deal with your situation first."</p><p>"But he might need my help!"</p><p>"You're not in any state to help him," Basira insisted. "We'll tell you when we find him, okay?"</p><p>"But I... before I go through with it, I, I wanted to talk it through with him."</p><p>"There's no need. We already know how it works."</p><p>"I - I just, afterwards, I don't want to be on my own with everything, and he'd want to know, I'm sure he'd want to know - "</p><p>"You won't be on your own. We'll keep in touch, and make sure you get all the help you need." </p><p>"S-still... I... n-now?" </p><p>"Yes, now. You're compromised, Jon. Do you understand? You've been letting this place make your decisions for you, and it doesn't have our best interests at heart. The longer you go on this way, the greater the risk to all of us. The sooner we deal with you, the sooner we can deal with everything else."</p><p>Jon stared at her, visibly struggling to pull himself together. "Oh... okay. Now."</p><p>Melanie handed him the awls. "Freedom will be worth it, right? Once you get this over with, you'll have the rest of your life ahead of you."</p><p>"I... I hope so." Jon glanced around the meeting room. "Uh. You could wait outside, and call an ambulance...? Tell them it was a-an accident in Artefact Storage. If they think it was premeditated and self inflicted, they'll, uh, probably put me away for quite a while..."</p><p>Melanie nodded. "A spooky accident. Got it." </p><p>"Well, then. Wish me luck? I-in surviving, and... everything afterwards, hopefully..." Jon offered them a weak smile.</p><p>"Good luck," Daisy replied. She didn't reach out for the kind of small touches that used to be a comfort to both of them. She'd always been perceptive.</p><p>"Yeah, good luck," Basira added. </p><p>"It's your best option. Seriously." Melanie gave him a thumbs up as the three of them retreated to the other side of the door.</p><p>Jon fished out his lighter, and waved the flame over the awls to sterilise them. "I can do this. Get it over with, one way or another..."</p><p>Perhaps, a few years ago, he wouldn't have been able to stab out his own eyes, even if his life depended on it. But since starting this job, he'd become very familiar with pain. He managed both eyes before passing out. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The ambulance arrived promptly. Once the paramedics had left with Jon, and Rosie had announced that the Institute was closed for the rest of the day, the remaining Archive staff reconvened in the basement. </p><p>"I, uh. I'll visit the hospital, once we're done here," Melanie told the others. "He'd probably want someone to be there, when he wakes up, and I... don't think it should be either of you."</p><p>"Keep us in the loop, alright?" Daisy requested. "We might be in the tunnels, when you call, but we can call back."</p><p>"Right. Of course." Melanie drew a deep breath. "One thing left to test... I quit."</p><p>She blinked in surprise.</p><p>"No Elias, no Archivist... I guess that makes all the difference," Basira observed. </p><p>"Yeah, I... I did it. I quit. Are you going to...?" </p><p>"Yeah, later. Once I've figured out what's going on around here," Basira replied. "I think it's safer to remain staff, for as long as we're on the premises."</p><p>"Okay. I guess I'll pack up my stuff, and put it in writing, and then I... I'm out of here."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Alive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon didn't wake up that day. Melanie texted the others to tell them what the doctors had told her. He'd been severely malnourished, dehydrated, underweight and fatigued even before maiming himself. They'd managed to stabilise him, but he probably wouldn't wake up until tomorrow, and even then, he'd be on strong painkillers and wouldn't be very coherent. </p><p>Basira and Daisy thanked her for the update. Georgie agreed to visit once he was awake. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Martin woke up with a splitting headache and a nosebleed. There was a rucksack lying next to him on the floor. He fumbled it open, and found some sandwiches, biscuits, bottled water, and a change of clothes inside. </p><p>After taking a few sips of water, he took a cautious look around the room. There was a small trapdoor set into the floor, which he hadn't had the time or the wherewithal to investigate earlier. It led into a set of rooms in a lower level of the tower. </p><p>Apparently, Jonah Magnus had kept the plumbing in his underground lair in good repair. Martin took the much-needed opportunity to wash. </p><p>There was a small bed by one wall. Maybe he ought to try to leave, but he couldn't kid himself into believing he'd get very far without resting first. He felt as if he could sleep for the next week.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Hi, Jon." Georgie greeted him as she took a seat next to his hospital bed. Melanie stood behind her, resting her hands on her shoulders.</p><p>Jon turned towards them and flinched, whimpering faintly. He was still hooked up to a lot of wires. </p><p>"The nurses said you've been doing better today," Georgie continued. They'd also told her that the remaining muscles in his eye sockets would still be moving from muscle memory, causing him bursts of pain, even as drugged up as he was.</p><p>"Ah... I... Georgie?" Jon's voice sounded wrecked.</p><p>"Yes, it's Georgie. I'm here."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Because I wanted to visit you."</p><p>"You don't, you didn't... I, because I didn't die. You left because I didn't die." </p><p>"That's not why I left, Jon. But we don't have to talk about that right now. I'm glad you're doing better."</p><p>"Am I dead? If you're here. You'd know, you, you know the dead, you'd know - "</p><p>"No, you're alive. You've got a second chance this time, for real. I'll visit you again soon."</p><p>Georgie left the room, and Melanie followed at her heels. They paused to talk in the corridor.</p><p>"I guess he's still, uh, really out of it," Melanie reflected. "Sorry, that wasn't much of a visit." </p><p>"It's not your fault. Or his, really. I'm sure he'll feel better soon."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The next time Martin woke up, he drank some water, ate half of a stale sandwich, tried to freshen up, and fell asleep again soon after.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>"Hey, it's Daisy."</p><p>Jon turned his head towards her, and stifled a pained sound. He looked better than he had a few days ago, but not by as much as she'd hoped.</p><p>"I've been talking things through with Basira, and, uh, we've found an apartment, close by. Still not sure when we're going to quit. But since Elias died, we haven't been quite so besieged. As far as we can tell. And we'll need our own place, when we move out of the Archives. So, uh. Things are still up in the air. But if you're still worried about being alone, we've agreed that you can move in with us, if you like. We can look after you."</p><p>Jon bit his lip, then made a vaguely affirmative noise.</p><p>"You'd like that, then? Somewhere to stay? At least for a while. I know you might want to, uh, make your own plans, in future. But from what I hear, things'll be tough for you, especially to begin with. Lots of new skills to pick up. So we're happy to look after you. If that's what you need."</p><p>"...Thank you." Jon spoke quietly, making an obvious effort to keep his voice level. </p><p>"Right. I'll let Basira know."</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>When Martin woke up again, Peter was in the room. </p><p>"What do you want?" Martin asked, rubbing his eyes.</p><p>"I'm glad to see you've calmed down." Peter looked as cheery as ever, the bastard. "Why don't you tell me how it went?"</p><p>"What...?"</p><p>"Your first try at using the Panopticon."</p><p>"Visions. It hurt." Martin gritted his teeth, and managed to sit up. "I think it showed me, uh, how Jonah gained and used his powers. It wants me to be stronger, like him, so it showed me how."</p><p><em>Not that I'll be doing any of that</em>.</p><p>"Oh, now that's promising." Peter's ridiculous grin intensified. "I knew you were a good choice."</p><p>"Uh huh."</p><p>"Why don't you go ahead and build up your strength, however it recommended? Whatever you need, I can make the arrangements. Then with any luck, you can pick up some more mission-relevant information next time."</p><p>Martin kept quiet for a minute, thinking it over. "... Fine. On one condition. Give me the Institute, and go back to your fucking ship."</p><p>Peter hesitated. "... Are you sure? You'll have a lot on your plate with all - "</p><p>"I'm sure. Make me the next official head of the Institute. Keep funding it for me. I'll use the panopticon, and the rest of the Institute, to gather whatever information you want. Jonah managed it. I'll manage it. And I'll keep you updated."</p><p>"Well, if you're sure." Peter nodded, looking quite satisfied. "The Lukas family will carry on donating, so long as you provide regular updates on your research."</p><p>"You - you know I'm not as strong as Jonah was, right? It'll be slow progress. You wanted me to replace him, and now he's gone, so I'm the only option left. I'll put in the effort. But funding shortages won't help, so don't even bother dangling that threat over my head."</p><p>"No need to worry. I'm sure you'll do fine." </p><p>Peter placed a set of keys on the desk across the room before leaving.</p><p>Martin hauled himself out of bed, refilled the water bottle from the tap, and wolfed down the biscuits. The sandwiches had gone off.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Jon was listening to music on his phone when the voice assistant announced a call from Martin. He hurried to accept it, and removed the headphones. </p><p>"Martin?"</p><p>"Jon! Jon, I'm on my way to the hospital, I just heard, sorry, I, I've been, uh, I'd say you wouldn't believe it, but I guess after all we've seen..."</p><p>"Martin, you - you're safe?"</p><p>"Yeah, safe as can be, for now. I, I'm head of the Institute, Peter's resigned, Rosie showed me the email when I made it back up to the surface, and I k- uh, there are some things I shouldn't say on the phone, I guess. But you quit? For real?"</p><p>"Yes, I. I quit. You'll be here? Soon?" </p><p>"Very soon. Cab's almost there. I should - uh, do you want me to stay on the line, until I reach your room?"</p><p>"Please. You're, ah, you're..."</p><p>"I - yeah, I know. I'm sorry it's been so long, Jon. I was trying to, uh, to do this, basically, get rid of Peter, but I wish I'd known, I, I'm sorry I wasn't there, if I'd just tried to keep it a secret I could've tried to be there for you too, and maybe things wouldn't have gone wrong - "</p><p>"What... Martin, no. I... it's not your fault. I just, I, I'm glad you're safe. I've missed you."</p><p>"Jon... okay, I'm at the hospital, I think I need to speak to reception, so, ah, you can stay on the line if you like, and I'll be there soon."</p><p>When Martin reached Jon's room, he hesitated in the doorway. "Oh, Jon..."</p><p>"Yes, that's, uh, still my name." </p><p>Jon held out one hand. Martin walked over to clasp it. Jon pulled him into an awkward hug. His breathing sounded pained, and there were tubes they had to avoid jostling, but he was alive.</p><p>"You still look like hell," Martin told him, "but I guess you won't, for much longer? You're human again, you're alive..."</p><p>"We're alive. Th-thank you for visiting." </p><p>"O-of course." Martin made to stand, but Jon didn't let go. "Okay, we can hug for, uh, as long as you want."</p><p>"How about forever?"</p><p>"Heh, they've got you pretty drugged up, haven't they?"</p><p>"Uh, yes. They've just lowered the dose, but. Yes. But I... I've h-had things I've wanted to say to you. For a while, now. I'm sorry, I... I wish I'd said them sooner. If I hadn't made such a mess of things. I don't want you to leave, ever."</p><p>"Okay, Jon. That's nice, but maybe we should wait until you're, uh, not drugged up anymore, before we try to have any serious conversations."</p><p>"Th-that won't be for a while, they said. But I still, I, I want to know how you feel."</p><p>"I'm... really glad you're alive."</p><p>"Do you, uh, did you ever like me? If, if you used to, for real, did I ruin that too?"</p><p>"I like you, yeah. Please don't worry about the past right now, okay? We can talk later, but for now you need to focus on getting better."</p><p>"I m-miss having you around every day. Want that back, better than it was. I can do better."</p><p>"If you still think so, later, then we can talk about it. I've missed you too."</p><p>"Daisy, she visited earlier, a-and asked me to live with her. And Basira. And I think I might have to? The nurses, they said, the council could place me somewhere, but I, I don't know if I'd be safe, straight out of the Institute. With people who don't understand that world. So, so living with two ex-cops, it might be safer. But I don't want to. I know they were doing their best, but after, I, they, I really don't want to."</p><p>"Are you saying you want to live with me?"</p><p>"If, if that's what you'd want too. I, after what I've put you through, I don't want to impose, but if you really, if, if this is real..."</p><p>"Yeah, Jon, I'd like that. If you still want to move in, when the time comes, then you're welcome to live with me. I'd really, really like that."</p><p>"Please. I, ah... I mean, thank you. Can you stay a while longer? I guess you must be busy, at a time like this, but if you can stay..."</p><p>"I can stay until visiting hours are over, if you like? Everything else can wait."</p><p>"Thank you. I really, really... I missed you."</p><p>"I missed you too. I'm here now, okay? I'm right here."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Details on certain tags, for those who want more warnings:</p><p>- 'Major character death' refers to Jonah dying. There's also some minor character death, such as Helen canon-typically eating Manuela (which she's presumably not going to survive forever), and mentions of canon deaths.</p><p>- 'Murder' refers to Martin killing Jonah, and some canon deaths, as mentioned above.</p><p>- 'Attempted murder' refers to Martin trying to kill Peter, and Basira trying to kill Jon. And sort of applies to Daisy helping Basira to incapacitate Jon in a way she expects will eventually kill him (though she half-hopes to find an alternative before then.)</p><p>- 'Attempted suicide' refers to Jon doing canon-typical things that he half-hopes will kill him, with that being a big part of the reason he does them; Martin trying to stay in the Lonely, which would've eventually killed him; and Jess surviving an attempted overdose offscreen.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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